


Knights of the Sith Empire

by Ihsan997



Series: Star Wars: the Old Empire [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Absent Parents, Betrayal, Canon-Typical Violence, Crisis of Faith, Disappointment, Dromund Kaas, Embarrassment, Emotional Hurt, Exile, Explosions, Father Figures, Fire, Friendship, Gen, Grenades, Introspection, Iokath, Isolation, Knights of the Eternal Throne, Korriban, Lack of Communication, Lightsaber Battles, Lightsabers, Loneliness, Loss of Faith, Loss of Grace, Loss of Identity, Loss of Limbs, Major Character Injury, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Minor Character Death, Miscommunication, Non-Sexual Slavery, Old Friends, Old Republic Era, Permanent Injury, Public Humiliation, Questioning, References to Depression, Return, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Sad, Self-Doubt, Self-Exile, Shadow of Revan, Sith, Sith Code, Sith Empire, Sith Shenanigans, Slavery, The Dark Side of the Force, Unrequited Hate, War for Iokath Spoilers, Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-06-22 10:18:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 36,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15579774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ihsan997/pseuds/Ihsan997
Summary: While the Outlander may have been frozen in carbonate, not all characters lost years in the same way. Following the drama and disappointment of Revan’s fall, one Sith warrior falls into exile, living out the five lost years under Zakuul in hermitage. Sometimes being ostracized is what one needs in order to grow.Act I: Self Destruction on Yavin (chapters 1 - 5)Act II: Exile on Rhelg (chapters 6 - 10)Act III: End of the Alliance (chapters 11 - 15)





	1. Mutual Misunderstanding

**Author's Note:**

> This fic explains why a character other than the Outlander also lost some years in the interim between Ziost and KotFE. Not everybody can be the Alliance commander, of course, but the absence while the Eternal Fleet is bombarding the galaxy warrants explanation for any fully-developed character.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An original take on the initial meeting on Yavin, with some details changed or omitted based on relevance.
> 
> Part one of act one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place in the year 3638 BBY at the height of the Shadow of Revan expansion.

Pressure. That’s how he could describe the elevator ride with Marr: pressure.

Not simple an excess of heat, or the feeling of rushed breathing. Were those the only sources of sensory overload for the up and coming Sith juggernaut, he may not have even noticed. His was a class designed for taking punishment without flinching, for absorbing damage without effort, to stand in the path of a rampaging wampa and not move. Normal pressure, he could deal with.

What was making him so nervous, however, was his company. With the remainder of Marr’s entourage already in the meeting room, there was no logistical reason why any more personnel would be needed. The proper military officials from the Empire’s top brass were already there, waiting for the arrival of the two most significant VIPs - Marr and Shan themselves.

On top of that, there were already Force-sensitives there to ensure security at the meeting. When the Dark Council learned that Shan would be bringing the Republic’s Hero and the Barsen’thor, they rushed to send the Empire’s Wrath and Darth Imperious on short notice simply to answer in kind. The latter two had apparently been confused as to why their presences were even necessary in the first place, other than to help improve the annual performance review of some minister back in Kaas City.

And yet...Marr had asked for Darth Xuvas by name.

To say that Xuvas was under pressure was an understatement. He felt as if he were turning his Force crush ability on his own chest cavity. He felt as if the elevator were tumbling from the heights of the Imperial Citadel. He felt as if a rancor had sat on him. He felt as if the core of Makeb were collapsing all around him (again). To be requested by the de facto leader of the Empire when there was already enough security was a great, if curious, honor. It was easily the greatest honor the young Sith warrior had received up to that point in his career.

The two of them stood facing the door as the unnecessarily slow elevator descended. Without even realizing it, Xuvas had folded his arms behind his back like his role model was, almost mirroring Marr’s posture to the extent where he then worried that the dark lord would find the imitation patronizing. Thankfully for him, he sensed Marr’s desire to speak despite the man’s statuesque body language, saving him from any more anxiety.

“Xuvas, I would like you to know why you’ve been brought here,” Marr said in a slow yet rhythmic tone of voice that could grab the attention of a whole room no matter how quietly the man spoke. “I want you to understand very well why you’re here.”

Heart pounding and mind racing, it took every ounce of Xuvas’ willpower not to start gushing, asking questions, or simply talk too much. “Yes, Lord Marr,” Xuvas said despite the wind catching in his throat. Too many scenarios of what the dark lord could possibly tell him danced around his psyche.

“As you know, we already have the Wrath and Imperious waiting to match the attendees brought by the Republic. This is merely a formality - a meeting among equals in power, both to demonstrate our commitment to ending the Revanites as well as our acknowledgment of Satele Shan’s two guests.”

“Yes,” Xuvas replied, and then he immediately regretted having spoken. His nerves were on edge due to finally meeting a person he idolized so much, and his usual confidence was sapped.

Marr continued. “Despite their presence, I felt it imperative that you, specifically, be present for this meeting,” he said, causing his younger to almost turn giddy at the unintentional flattery. “The Wrath and Imperious have both achieved more than you, are better known than you, but they serve a different purpose from you. You may not realize that purpose. Not yet.”

“Tell me so that I may fulfill that purpose.” For a moment, Xuvas almost feared that he’d said too much, or possibly interrupted a sentence he hasn’t realized was coming, but he breathed a sigh of relief when Marr paid the comment no mind.

“Your purpose is insurance. Specifically, you’re to insure the wellbeing of the Empire through your visible presence. You see, the others...their situation is different. Cipher Nine is here, but the Republic is unaware, as they are of the Hunter; both of them maintain an invisible presence, primarily to screen us from interference, primarily from the Revanites. Our fellow Sith, the Empire’s Wrath and Darth Imperious, are known for their power but are also known for their personalities. The Republic intelligence services knows their birth names, their personal connections, their official movement. Their motives are known, and thus they possess great renown and achievement, but the Republic feels - rightly or wrongly - that they’re predictable. Even if those predictions could be dangerous, the familiar feels safe.

“You, on the other hand, aren’t publicly known. Your Sith name is known, as are your essential contributions to the Imperial victories on Taris and Ilum. Aside from this, personal details about you aren’t public; you have no well-known official station, and you’re only known to the Republic through holo transmissions of your success in piling up corpses of Jedi.

“Mark my words: the Republic fears you more than they do the others because they don’t understand you. As much as we must demonstrate our contribution to the coalition against Revan, we must also communicate to the Republic that the price for double-crossing us would be too high for them. Cipher Nine and the Hunter are our hidden insurance policy against possible Jedi treachery...you’re what we throw in front of them, a clear yet silent message that we won’t be taken for fools.”

A strange, tingling numbness settled in between the young pureblood’s eyes. Hearing what Marr was saying practically made him drunk with praise, and unexpected praise at that. A bead of sweat dripped down Xuvas’ forehead beneath his helmet despite the cool climate control in the forward base, and he prayed that he wouldn’t do something embarrassing at that moment.

Fighting to maintain his composure, Xuvas tried to find the right words to express his acceptance of the responsibility. He didn’t know how to relate to Marr - he’d never met the dark lord before, and all they had in common for sure was membership in the Sith Order. It was Xuvas’ only means of building rapport.

“I shall fail either you nor the Empire, Lord Marr. As a member of the Sphere of Philosophy, I devote my life to the Sith Code. May my presence here demonstrate our willingness to stand against Revan’s so-called balanced corruption of the Force, and the Jedi Order’s heresy of the light side.”

At first, Xuvas felt proud of his little introduction. He’d actually practiced it from the moment he’d been summoned, and it was a sort of personal mantra he’d hoped would assure Marr that the arrangement was wise. Slowly, however, Xuvas’ confidence was sapped away when his Senior didn’t respond. Marr just continued to stare at the elevator door, unmoving and impossible to read, as they descended. There was no shift in body language, no sudden sign to signal displeasure, but Xuvas felt it. And when Marr held the elevator door to prevent it from opening, the younger Sith knew there was a problem.

“There is one caveat, Xuvas, and this is delicacy. What we deal with is an intensely fragile situation.”

“You mean...the fight against Revan?”

“No, I don’t mean that. I mean the maintenance of our coalition. For the time being, we rely on Republic assistance in fighting this menace to the galaxy. At the minimum, we’d at least need them to accept a truce, if not assist us. This puts us in the precarious position of balancing our image with their needs. So long as their need to stop Revan is being met, they have reason to help us; so long as we project an image of strength, they’ll have reason not to turn us against them.

“Image, Xuvas. Needs are the domain of military intelligence and myself; image is your domain. You must project the only image the Republic knows of you, the image of the silent terror who never loses a duel. At the same time, this image must not threaten them directly lest we undermine our own coalition. You must rely on your presence, on the mystique you’ve cultivated, to leave them in their state of wonderment. We must make no concrete promises; merely remind them of the consequences should they renege on our temporary ceasefire.

“Acknowledge this delicacy, Xuvas, and you’ll achieve victory. Neglect it, and you’ll let down the Empire and yourself.”

When Marr released the elevator door, the soft sliding of the metal sounded like thunder in Xuvas’ ears. Not only the final words but the abrupt ending impressed upon Xuvas how much was expected of him. The way Marr exited wordlessly and expected him to keep up only piled on more pressure, and Xuvas struggled both to catch up without running and contain his excitement when the notables of the Empire - people he only watched on holocasts - were all gathered around a negotiation table.

In addition to representatives of military strategy and logistics, the two aforementioned Sith were there and waiting. Xuvas had only bumped into the Empire’s Wrath and Darth Insidious in passing at official events, the two of them nodded to him when he entered as if they at least remembered his helmet. They were the Sith Order’s shining stars, similar to him in age but having risen to the top much faster than anyone in recent memory. When he stood next to them at the negotiation table, he felt a swelling of pride inside, even if he hadn’t quite earned the status they had. Marr stepped in between them, saying nary a word as they waited for his counterpart to arrive.

Across the table from them was a sight that boiled Xuvas’ blood. In addition to Republic military officials the likes of whom he’d slaughtered by the dozens, there were two notables that almost caused his hands to shake with their mere visages. Clad from head to toe much like him, the Hero of Tython and the Jedi Order’s Barsen’thor waited, the light in them grating on Xuvas’ nerves to no end. Their mere presence was an insult, and he had to fight off doubts about the value of a truce with people who represented everything he opposed in the world.

Satele Shan didn’t keep them waiting long. Flanked by a Mirialan Jedi Knight, Shan carried herself with the air of a person who truly thought nothing of her opponents. A cordiality which couldn’t have been honest marked her face as she bowed to Marr, initially displaying at least one redeeming quality. Much to Xuvas’ shock, however, Marr actually bowed back, and the young pureblood wondered what sort of plot this could be. Certainly the dark lord couldn’t be sincerely bowing to a Jedi...could he?

After customary greetings between the leaders and military officials of both sides, the negotiation for terms of the supposed coalition seemed ready to begin. Xuvas tried to control his blood pressure, but he found difficulty given the presence of so many people who he hated in one place. The dishonest politeness of Shan, the forced calmness of the nameless Mirialan, the ever so relaxed demeanor of the two Jedi leaders behind them...it was disgusting.

Shan regarded the Imperial military officials, behaving like a fraud if there ever was one. She even greeted the other Sith, as if they’d truly believe her niceties were sincere.

“Greetings to you, Darth Insidious. And I believe you’re the Empire’s Wrath,” Shan said in a flat, neutral tone that must have been hiding what she truly felt.

“Greetings,” Darth Insidious said back.

“Correct,” said the Empire’s Wrath.

Convincing himself that the people he respected so much has some secret plan, Xuvas excused their friendliness to the enemy and tried to control his racing pulse. When Shan’s eyes focused on him, however, he felt his control slipping.

At first, she didn’t seem to recognize him, and she looked confused as to why he was there. Slowly yet surely, the familiarity of his armor dawned on her, and a slight crease folded itself in her face as she stifled a frown. No matter what anyone else would say, he could feel her ire toward him. She remembered who he was and what he’d done in his skirmishes against the Republic.

Shan looked from Xuvas to Marr and back to Xuvas again. “May the Force be with you, Darth Xuvas, and guide you to what’s best for you.”

Unable to withhold his rage at what she stood for, he channeled it into a method nobody would expect until it was too late to interrupt him. If his purpose was to warn of consequences, then by the Force, he’d fulfill it.

“My apologies for destroying your personal armada, Grand Master,” he said calmly, matching fakeness with fakeness as he reminded her of an embarrassing incident a number of years ago.

She must have understood the indirect jab in her direction, because the slight mark in her expression appeared again. The slight dent in her calmness must have been felt by her followers, because the Hero of Tython reacted quickly.

“May the Force grant us all sincerity,” the Hero said flatly, though there was less control there than with Shan’s demeanor, probably due to experience.

Before Xuvas even knew it, his mouth was open again. “And may the Force be with your planet after my recent incursion,” he replied.

There was a notable shift in the air after his obvious insult. The Republic officials all stiffened, suddenly pretending to be busier than they were so they could eavesdrop. Shan gave Marr the same look she’d given to Xuvas, and Insidious subtly turned his head to peer in Xuvas’ direction.

The Hero of Tython seemed disappointed more than anything. “That was a setup which led to unnecessary loss of life. The loss of colleagues of mine.”

“Yes, unfortunate given the time at which it ended,” Xuvas said in an attempt to drive home his warning from the first meeting. The Hero of Tython stood, arms folded, just staring at the Sith as if daring him. “Do you want to know which colleagues of yours begged for my mercy?”

The Hero of Tython broke the calm act and took a step forward in an obvious challenge, stopping only when the Barsen’thor stood in between them to preemptively stop a fight from breaking out, much to the Sith juggernaut’s chagrin.

Shan finally looked serious again, not quite angry but close enough, and shot her peer a subtle look. “Darth Marr?” she asked.

Marr nodded, and Xuvas hoped that the man would confirm his warning, or at least uphold it. Instead, Marr conversed with Shan as if they were equals. “Just a moment.”

Right in front of everyone, Marr turned to Xuvas. “Take three steps back,” the dark lord said in a low, firm voice.

Marr completely shut his feelings out from the Force, denying Xuvas knowledge of what the man was actually feeling. Marr had become the true mystery, openly confirming the Jedi’s desired result and refusing to let Xuvas know what exactly the plan was. The silence lingered, but Marr didn’t budge, staring Xuvas down into embarrassment as he waited for his instructions to be followed.

Doing as he was told, Xuvas stepped away, putting more space between himself and the table than anyone else there. The distance felt much longer than it actually was, especially when he could see that all of the other notables were so close to the table. He’d effectively been removed from the group so quickly, so soon, after he’d finally had a chance to stand at the table. Marr continued to stare at him for a moment before turning away, effectively leaving Xuvas to wallow in his public reprimand. How fast had his sense of being honored turn to one of being betrayed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own Star Wars.


	2. Whip the Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Relations between the junior and elder Sith spiral off a cliff at the worst possible time.
> 
> Part two of act one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This also occurs in 3638 BBY and follows the previous chapter by a few days. Liberties were taken with exact representation of in-game events leading up to the final confrontation.

For days, Xuvas dealt almost entirely with military personnel. The coalition’s push through the jungle toward the Temple of Sacrifice was meandering and time-consuming, and the Revanites fought to the bitter end. Placed at the front of a squadron of Imperial troopers, Xuvas focused on his missions and tried to enjoy the sight of Revanite cultists forming trails behind him with their corpses. That joy was hampered by the sense that he’d made a bad impression, though.

All exchanges with other frontline commanders had been brief and to the point. He’d passed the Empire’s Wrath during a rest between skirmishes, but the latter had walked by without making eye contact. Xuvas didn’t know if it was intentional or not, but he tried to make excuses for his fellow Sith warrior. Darth Imperious had encountered him briefly in a temporary camp in the jungle, making a few minutes of visibly uncomfortable smalltalk before being called away to secure a minor shrine from the Revanites. Aside from that, he was isolated.

His mind continued drifting back to Marr. After the initial negotiation of a truce, Marr hadn’t explained what exactly had gone wrong. The dark lord made his exit swiftly, flanked by intelligence officers, and Xuvas had been ushered away by Lana Beniko to inspect troops. The Republic officials took special care to ensure that he and their Jedi were never in close proximity to one another, which is what he thought his task had been; mission accomplished. At no point did Xuvas have the chance to ask Marr what specifically he’d done wrong, where he’d crossed a line, and how he could do better next time. He felt leaderless, completely unaware of what he was supposed to do.

It was a few days into the campaign that he was approached by Lana Beniko on an Imperial speeder while he watched over a group of troopers resting during the march to a forward camp in the thickest part of the jungle. None other than the Empire’s Wrath was riding next to her, though Xuvas’ fellow warrior paid him no mind upon arrival. Lana remained on her speeder bike as she looked at him with a sense of urgency.

“Greetings, Beniko,” he said, initiating contact so quick that he seemed eager. He was. “Is there any news?”

Much more terse than he’d hoped, she gave little indication of how she regarded him. “Yes, but we need to move quickly. The Wrath can keep watch here; we need to shift you to the forward base as soon as we can. Hop on.”

Xuvas looked to the Empire’s Wrath as well as the second speeder bike, but with the Wrath’s back to him already, he assumed that borrowing the bike was out of the question. He could already sense a low key social boycott forming, all because of one bad impression.

“Thank you,” he said as he climbed on the back of her speeder, but Lana didn’t answer, instead hitting the throttle and taking him on a winding path through the underbrush. Trees whizzed by and branches almost hit his head, but he still listened closely to hear what she was saying.

“We had a small incident. We’re mere kilometers away from the Temple and the Revanites are scattered, but there was a disturbance in the coalition. A scuffle broke out between troopers on both sides and they drew their weapons. Imperious and the Barsen’thor separated the respective soldiers, but doing so left my people to squabble with the SIS over responsibility - all when we’re to be making our final push.”

“Where do you fit into all of this?” he asked as she zig-zagged in between the trees.

“I was sent to bring you. Darth Marr will meet with Satele Shan in mere minutes to sort out the conflict. We should have already been pushing toward the Temple by now and we can’t have this disturbance.”

“But who sent you?” he asked.

“Darth Marr,” she answered without hesitation, but she also proved her insight when she cut off his attempt to ask more questions. “I’ll try to get there with enough time for him to prep you; he can answer your questions better than I. He insisted on your presence, with emphasis. Someone needs to loom in the back as the warning.”

When she she’d sure that he wouldn’t interject, she spoke one last time. “May the Force serve you and us all, and bring victory to us and you. I tell you this as my brother from another mother: a warning isn’t a threat. The difference is delicate, yet critical.”

Before he could let the angst pour out of his mouth with more questions, she shifted to a higher gear which, on that model of speeder, created more noise. The distortion was clearly intentional, and the way she drowned his voice out only made him want to talk even more. Anxiety tore him apart, and he wondered why her pronoun usage excluded him from the rest of the Imperial side of the coalition.

By the time they reached the forward base, the troops seemed to have calmed down. The base was on a hill in a clearing with the two factions occupying opposite sides; even once he dismounted, he couldn’t quite see the Republic side, but the Temple of Sacrifice stood over the horizon. They were close...this very likely could have been Xuvas’ last contribution to the war effort. Pressure piled on again as he realized he might have a second chance to show Marr and the others what he could do.

When Xuvas started to follow Lana to the base of the hill, a number of the troops saw him from the other end of the base. The dispute with the Republic troopers must have been raw because a handful of the Imperials pointed at him and informed the others excitedly only for Imperious to notice and prevent them from calling out to him. Imperious had always had cordial relations with him, and the attempt to hide him from the troopers felt like a personal slight. For sure, it wasn’t; the troops simply needed to be corralled and Imperious was handling the task well. Still, that Imperious didn’t at least wave felt cruelly impersonal.

That feeling of cruel unfairness increased tenfold when Marr approached the two arriving warriors and only greeted one.

“Lana, you’ve arrived in time,” Marr said without even looking at Xuvas.

Both of them bowed, but Lana spoke on their behalf. “Greetings, Lord Marr. The Wrath will see to it that the remaining troops arrive here.”

“Excellent; we’ll need reinforcements for this camp once we agree on who precisely will storm the Temple. In the event that a temporary retreat becomes necessary, we’ll need this safe haven. Now...I believe our intelligence officers wished to discuss movement of the Revanites with you.”

“Of course, Lord Marr. I’ll see to it.” She bowed to Marr and took her leave toward a sensor array which had been set up.

Xuvas’ felt every ligament and tendon in his body start to tense up once he was alone with their de facto leader. In an ideal galaxy, that would have been his chance to ask what precisely went wrong at their previous meeting with the Republic, why Marr had publicly reprimanded him after insisting that he attend. The galaxy was far from ideal, however, and the way that Marr turned away from Xuvas halfway implied that the dark lord was too busy for a detailed discussion.

“We haven’t much time; Satele Shan is at the central command table atop the hill, alongside the Republic’s field commander and the one of Shan’s quickly ascending disciples. I’ll need your presence once again: wait until I’m nearly at the top of the hill and then follow.”

Marr spoke in a low, almost soothing voice, were it not for the enviable dark side energy radiating from his aura. There was no sense of urgency to that voice, but there was a seriousness to it which made every word seem dire. “I need you at my side as my right hand. In my left, I offer the Republic our temporary truce until we end the Revanite threat; as for my right, I hold the promise of what’s to come if they take this opportunity to betray us.” Marr began to walk away, ending any possibility of a two-way discussion. “You must be that promise in every sense of the word. Do not fail the Empire today.”

The sight of Marr leaving without allowing him the chance to speak was suffocating. A sensation similar to being submerged deep under water pressed onto Xuvas’ lungs, constricting his ability to breathe more and more as Marr moved further away.

“Yes, Lord Marr,” Xuvas replied a bit late, hesitating for fear of asking questions that would only be rebuffed.

Once Marr was at the top of the hill, Xuvas began to ascend. A few starfighters soared overhead to objectives he wasn’t privy to, but the feeling that they were close to finishing the war against Revan drew near. Thus, when Xuvas reached the top of the hill and saw half a dozen people gathered around a holotable displaying the terrain, he knew the discussion would be significant both for any plans that came out of it as well as the fact that they’d be able to focus on the Republic very soon.

Satele Shan noticed him following Marr before the others did. She’d been leaning closely to the table to examine troop positions when Marr stopped opposite her, but her eyes focused on Xuvas. He could feel her wariness through the Force, he could sense her defensiveness at the mere sight of him, but she eventually turned to greet Marr and pretend that she wasn’t bothered. Xuvas just knew it.

A nameless Republic forward commander recognized him as well, immediately stiffening upon sight of the Sith juggernaut who’d destroyed so many Republic squads like his own. Xuvas could feel the anger and fear seeping out of the man, only for the beautiful cocktail to dry up when Shan laid a hand on the commander’s shoulder briefly. Two Republic privates behind Shan tensed up as well, though she gave no outward sign that she’d noticed their fear. Perhaps they were convinced that Marr would spare them after the fight - a false belief, Xuvas felt sure - but they knew nothing of the younger Sith save that he’d killed many of their ranks and rarely spoke. He basked in the fear he was able to cause despite not being the one they should really worry about, and his confidence next to Marr started to return.

Most curious was the Mirialan from the previous meeting, obviously the disciple of Shan previously mentioned. The green woman balled up her fists upon sighting him, but he could feel the conflict within her very well. She fought her own self to preserve the lie that she wasn’t angered by his presence, feeding him merely with her internal attempt to convince herself.

To his shock, though, Marr actually began by giving Shan a slight bow before she’d initiated. If the dark lord had some secret plan to lure the Grand Master into a false sense of security, then said plan was entirely lost on Xuvas.

“Allow me to offer my regrets for the unpleasant incident which occurred here,” Marr said, almost making Xuvas gasp out loud. “It is my hope that we may put this behind us and focus on the objective.”

Grating on Xuvas’ nerves like nails on a chalkboard, Shan responded in kind, behaving as if she were actually being honest in her outward respect. “We share that hope and look forward to a swift victory for the greater good,” she said with a slight bow of her own - though only after Marr had initiated.

Polite and cordial beyond what any sort of plot would call for, Marr didn’t even demand that Shan matched his expression of regret. “Good. With this out of the way, it may be wise for us to discuss developments at the base of the Temple of Sacrifice.”

Xuvas could feel his temperature rising down to ever vein and capillary. His blood began to boil at the scene playing out right in front of him. Inside his heart, he burned in loathing toward Satele Shan and all of her fraudulent platitudes. He burned at the Republic soldiers at the table whose disorganization and cowardice in the field could cost Imperial lives. And, as much as Xuvas didn’t want to admit it, he started to burn at Marr - the leader whom he called his role model. Xuvas detested any semblance of equivalence between the Empire and the Republic, and he longed for a less cordial exchange between the two sides.

It was the younger Jedi who, ironically, initiated such an exchange.

The Mirialan turned to Shan but made no attempt to whisper. “Grand Master Shan, how can we accept any false platitudes from the Empire knowing that they bring a wanted murderer and war criminal to the table?”

The Mirialan pointed directly at Xuvas, and his heart started to beat even faster. Whispering a silent prayer that his ego wouldn’t blunt his readiness, he hid any hint of a reaction from the younger Jedi, his chest swelling with pride at the unintentional complement.

Shan retained themirritatingly peaceful facial expression she always wore, but she was terse when dealing with her disciple. “Naybe, do not let the tragedies of the past rob you of peace in the present,” Shan said in a sickeningly didactic manner. Xuvas guessed that she was putting on some sort of an act for the Republic troopers, but she couldn’t fool him.

Naybe bowed her head to the older Jedi but wouldn’t drop the subject, and Xuvas could feel the younger’s grip on bleak Jedi apathy starting to slip. “What robs this meeting of peace is the presence of accursed villain Darth Xuvas at the planning table. He sullies this meeting with the blood of so many brave fighters.”

“Naybe, we must preserve the coalition,” Shan said with a measure of finality in her tone.

A memory clicked in Xuvas’ head, and before he could stop himself, he began seeking to assert the dominance of Sith doctrine over the beliefs of the Jedi. “Naybe...Naybe Augusti,” Xuvas murmured.

Silence swept over the hill. For members of the Republic, it was the first time they’d ever heard him speak. For Marr, he hoped, there was a gift of breathing room to dutifully deliver the promise. The Mirialan appeared particularly disturbed, finally turning to look directly at him. “Yes, I’m Naybe Augusti,” the Mirialan knight replied with a naïve gallantry that nauseated him.

Xuvas nodded thoughtfully, even taking Shan by surprise with his soft tone. “Your first master was at Kuat Drive Yards when I aided the Imperial victory there. He spoke of you.”

Suspicion flickered in the Mirialan’s eyes, and she looked Xuvas up and down as if taking him in for the first time and deciding whether she’d listen to him at all. Still, there was a residual pain there, a pain he wanted to appeal to. His love of the Sith Code mixed with his intent to express the Empire’s promise - he wanted to either spite Shan by calling the disciple to the dark side, or at least assert Imperial superiority in the coalition. The young Jedi had experienced loss, and that loss compelled her to reach out to him - a Sith - despite all logic and reason indicating that she shouldn’t.

“Yes, he became one with the...he...told you my name?” Curiosity and pain mixed with her suspicion, and a delightful wound revealed itself in her soul. Shan was more suspicious of his motives, but he masked his motives well enough that the Grand Master refrained from interrupting him at first.

Xuvas nodded sincerely. “Yes...he did. He fought bravely and honorably to the end,” he said, clearly touching the Mirialan emotionally. He smiled warmly beneath his helmet. “When he tapped into the dark side in his last moments, and I watched his eyes turn yellow as he accepted the truth, he asked me to find you one day and convert you too, like I did to him in the last moments before he died from the wounds I’d inflicted.”

Despite his gentle and almost wistful tone, Naybe’s reaction was swift and worth savoring. She pounded her fist on the table, causing the holograms to flicker out as her peace was shattered. She’d clearly been expecting condolences, or a token attempt to mediate past disputes and find common ground. Even Shan, as collected as she was, was taken by surprise when Xuvas revealed a fallen Jedi’s conversion.

Shan looked up to her counterpart, visibly displeased. “Marr,” Shan complained before turning to her disciple. “There is no emotion.”

“I can not allow him to disrespect my first master’s memory! This is a dishonorable insult!” Naybe yelled indignantly, revealing her emotion in the process.

Finally, Marr intervened. “We gain nothing from this,” he said to his younger, though Xuvas thought the man was just referring to Naybe’s rejection of the truth.

Xuvas felt his pulse race; he felt as if he were finally making his point loud and clear. Spurred on by a desire to perform well, he reached across the table to point at Naybe. All of them, even Shan, watched warily as he raised his arm, rightfully attentive to an appendage which had slain dozens of Jedi.

“It’s not an insult; your former master received a great honor from the dark side,” Xuvas said in an honest tone, polite like Marr’s voice but for a clearer strategic purpose. “It’s one that I’m willing to share with you...should you force my hand-“

*WHACK*

Everybody jumped at the sound of a loud smack. Metal sang almost melodically on metal in a flash of red and black, causing a noise so brief, so short, yet so violent that all but Shan recoiled on the Republic side. Even Xuvas was dazed, if not visibly so, and he stopped in mid sentence when the loud clap occurred.

Reeling from the sudden interruption, Xuvas paused to gather up what had happened from his surroundings. Everyone was staring at him, even the Republic privates, all of them in awe except for Shan who appeared infuriatingly satisfied.

After a few seconds, Xuvas’ forearm began to hurt - the one on the arm he’d been holding out to the Mirialan. Such was the speed of the attack that his nerves didn’t even fire off pain responses across his dendrites for a few seconds, and both of his arms were hanging at his sides before the sensation registered.

For any of the Jedi to attempt an open and unorovoked attack would have been suicide for them, and as idiotically suicidal they could be, they weren’t stupid enough to compromise the coalition. In fact, he hadn’t seen any of them move, and no matter how fast Satele Shan was, he’d at least have noticed a flash of her white and grey robes had she hit him. There was simply no way that anybody standing in front of him could have been the supersonic culprit, and had there been an enemy behind him, the Republic privates would have reacted frightfully. No, whoever hit him couldn’t be in front of or behind him.

Xuvas turned his head to the side, finding that Marr was already staring at him alongside the others. The dark lord’s presence in the Force carried so much weight that its exact nature was blunted and dulled. Xuvas didn’t know of his elder was angry, regretful, humorous, or numb; Marr’s presence was like that of a mountain, so massive that Xuvas couldn’t even see all of it. Marr was clearing looking so heavily to demonstrate a point, but that point wasn’t entirely clear. Xuvas’ felt light-headed as he realized that his role model, his hero, the man the entire Empire looked to for leadership had just publicly slapped his hand down.

Without a word, Marr raises his own hand slowly to point past Xuvas in the other direction. Nobody spoke, not even the new recruits in either military, only increasing Xuvas’ feeling of being a public scapegoat for display to the enemy.

Xuvas turned his head the other way only to see Jakarro, the Wookie brought into the coalition by a person who’d run out of good ideas. At first confused, the younger Sith soon realized that Marr wasn’t pointing at Jakarro, but rather to the empty space next to the hairy beast. Nobody even whispered or shared glances, every one of them simply gawking like morons and waiting to see what would happen. Heat rose in Xuvas’ neck and boiled his brain, nearly clouding his vision with the sheer humiliation of the physical reprimand.

His boots felt like they were filled with solid blocks of durasteel, but Xuvas still compelled his body to respond to whatever reason was left in his mind. His soul bled at every step, but he at least found enough of his pride that wasn’t shredded so that he could keep his head high and walk with a wide, menacing gait toward the giant hairball. Once he’d reached his spot of shame, Xuvas turned around, refusing to let the bruises of his ego show in his body language, but simply standing with correct posture hurt his heart; he felt like a withered tree forced to stand. The group gathered around the table stared for another few seconds at the Sith who scared half the Jedi Order standing next to the missing link who didn’t even wear shoes. The implied comparison between himself and the furry monster with a name felt like the greatest slur Xuvas had ever borne, and he felt his head spinning as he tried to understand why Marr was treating him in such a fashion.

Finally, Marr turned back to Shan, drawing the group’s attention away from the public embarrassment. “Time is of the essence. We must put past disputes behind us...we must not be delayed from stopping Revan any longer.”

Shan nodded her head, suddenly forgetting about the incident entirely, though her disciple seemed rather pleased. “I agree fully,” the Grand master replied. “Let us plan the exact order of battle so that we may end this menace to the galaxy.”

The rest of the meeting was a blur to Xuvas. Too upset to even hear Marr’s voice, he tuned out the words, waiting out the final planning session and trying to quell the shattering of his image of his hero, and of himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own Star Wars.


	3. Going Viral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an era of such advanced technology, news spreads fast. One Sith warrior discovers the cruelty of memes on a galactic scale.
> 
> Part three of act one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place in 3638 BBY, about an hour after the previous one.
> 
> The chapter is intentionally short for both pacing and stylistic reasons.

More starfighters soared overhead, low enough for the branches of the rainforest canopy to rustle above. Troopers both Imperial and Republic marched to a multitude of overlooks and choke points to secure a wide radius around the Temple of Sacrifice, all of them entrenching as best they could in anticipation of possible comeback attempts by the Revanites. Bit by bit, the forward base within view of the Temple emptied out with only a handful of personnel and droids left behind, and the sense of finality in every deployment began to dawn on nervous troopers as they departed.

Away from most of the commotion, a lone Sith warrior walked just beyond the edge of the camp. Solemn and sour, he paced and pondered the humiliation he’d suffered at the hands of a man he’d respected more than any other just an hour ago. Oh, how emotion could flip so swiftly. Chastising himself for his feelings of betrayal and unfairness, Xuvas just folded his hands behind his back and tried to convince himself that he must have brought his misfortune upon himself, but the proverbial pill was too bitter to swallow. Until then, he still hadn’t been told what exactly he’d been doing wrong so far.

Even though his attempts to comprehend Marr’s actions were all in vain, he still couldn’t stop replaying the event in his head. Not until, at least, he heard the decidedly unstealthy approach of a droid. He could sense that whatever was following him wouldn’t be able to harm him, and he continued pacing slowly in the underbrush and ignored the droid’s attempt to catch up with him. Eventually the robotic legs reached his position, but he didn’t bother turning around to greet the machine.

“You are Darth Xuvas,” came the oddly breathy voice of a droid he remembered as Imperious’ property. Pisces or Andromeda or something like that.

He didn’t stop pacing, but he didn’t try to shake off the annoying automaton either. “Correct,” he replied without even looking at her.

Perhaps due to the droid’s advanced artificial intelligence, she didn’t pause when responding as a living person would. “I’ve seen the incident which appears to have caused you distress,” she said while walking next to him as if they were travel companions.

“I didn’t know an AI could be so presumptuous,” he said flippantly.

“My presumptions carry extremely high probabilities of accuracy,” said Libra, or maybe Capricorn was her name. “I presume that your stress levels are high due to the inequitable treatment you received.”

He slowed down and finally regarded the talking tin can. There was a deep intelligence in there, he could tell, but he found the droid’s forward behavior suspect. When he didn’t answer, she continued her walking commentary.

“I presume that you are feared for your power, but that your power is restrained by forces beyond your control. I find your situation to be a useful analogue to mine.” When he stopped walking and burned his gaze down onto her, the droid backed away, but still didn’t hesitate. “I did not predict that my observation would trigger anger directed at me as a response.”

The droid, this Virgo or some similar-sounding name, looked at him much like a simpleton would. For all the calculating power of an AI, it still had poor social skills, and his fantasy of Force crushing it into a ball of scrap hardly seemed like a fitting punishment. Even his penchant for violence manifested itself with a sense of reason, and he found no benefit in destroying a target which wouldn’t at least understand why he’d be destroying it.

He turned away from her and started pacing again, saving his aggression for a more deserving victim. “Get better social programming,” he said in the closest tone he could get to conciliatory.

She started to follow him again. “I have a holocast which will be of interest to you.” Metallic parts inside of her wrist shifted around, and she held her hand up for him to watch a projected image of a menu on a holonet popular in Imperial and Chiss space. “I predict that your reason will prevent you from blaming me as the messenger.”

At first he took no interest, but the sound of metal striking metal caught his attention. The sound was too familiar, and he soon stopped his pacing to see a replay of Marr slapping his hand down when he’d pointed at Naybe.

“Let me see that...what’s going on?”

“One of the Republic privates recorded the incident, but leaked it on Imperial space holonet. Multiple commentaries as well as a series of memes have been automatically generated in the past hour, and now sentient biological beings have started to do so as well.”

Xuvas used a finger to scroll through the menus on the droid’s projected holograms. Image after image whizzed by as the authorship switched from bot-generated to memes created by teens across the galaxy. “What’s this all about...’Sith goon gets told,’ eight-hundred billion hits? ‘Marr’s Pet Monster,’ an entire holocomic? ‘Empire’s infamous Jedi Stomper slapped silly by handler,’ on a mainstream news holocast? How did this go viral so fast?”

Socially dumb beyond belief, Altair or whatever her name was continued to state the obvious. “A group of schoolchildren on Corellia have started editing famous politicians and celebrities into your place at the moment when Marr hit you,” she said while scrolling past doctored holograms of Xuvas pointing at everyday objects in casual situations. The views were in the trillions.

The same heat that hid risen through his neck when Marr had struck him rose again, almost pushing Xuvas to a fever. The sheer degradation of being turned into a galactic joke so quickly, the disgrace of having his feared reputation turned into a series of ‘menacing walk challenges’ by schoolchildren, was simply too much for him to bear. He couldn’t even wish that he could go back in time because it wouldn’t have done him any good; he still had no idea what Marr wanted from him or what he’d done wrong, and thus the result would have been the same regardless.

He shook his head. He wished he’d never even accepted the mission to fight the Revanites directly, but the opportunity to stop the galaxy’s greatest threat would have drawn his interest in any circumstance. There was a sense of doom about his now tarnished reputation, like a sort of inevitability about the way things has turned out, that threatened to rob him of his anger and leave a depressing emptiness in its wake.

The talking machine seemed to have analyzed his feelings surprisingly well for an automaton which had such poor interpersonal communication skills. “When I suffer from similar disrespect, my logic processors consider various options for revenge, measuring the risks and chances of success for all avenues. In order to rectify such wrongdoings, my estimation processors grant equal weight to my options regardless of success chances. My decision-making processors then ultimately make a choice with higher levels of survival on my part, but there is a general delay in processes of several microseconds.

“I am fascinated by the analogous reaction to the distress you feel.”

Mechanical and without passion, Alpha Centauri reached up and patted him on the shoulder. “I estimate that our levels of solidarity are high. When I take over the galaxy, it is unlikely that I will kill you.” Before he could answer, the droid took her leave, walking with an awkward, swinging gait as if it weren’t designed for walking at a fast pace.

Perhaps he should have felt comforted by the sentient tin can’s words. Like her name, though, the exchange and even the attempt to empathize were soon forgotten because Beniko came whirring by on her speeder bike again. There was a renewed sense of urgency about her, and she gave no indication of having seen all the jokes made about Xuvas online.

“Hurry, we have to go,” she said while wiping the sweat from her forehead.

Her urgency seeped out through the Force and infected him, and all previous troubles were temporarily forgotten.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s time. Shuttles have already left for the final assault on the Temple. Marr wants you out front with him to tank for the others. Hop on!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own Star Wars.


	4. Ingratitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Sith acts like a Sith, and then gets reprimanded again by another Sith for it. Confusion ensues.
> 
> Part four of act one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also takes place in 3638 BBY, immediately following the previous chapter.
> 
> Liberties were taken. This chapter is sort of a shout-out to anyone else who finds scenes of characters pouring their hearts out in front of silent onlookers to be freaking weird.

Pressure. He felt such intense pressure, but this time it was of a very different nature.

Mere moments after he’d been dropped out of a moving shuttle into the Temple’s courtyard, Revan had reacted to the assault by nearly a dozen people. The other notables and adventurers of both sides lined up in the circle of pillars and engaged in monologues which Xuvas found painful to listen to. He half suspected that all of them were pontificating not to prove any point to Revan himself, but rather to show off to each other how committed they were to the coalition of forces. It was sickening as they all added a little sentence to the running chorus of condemnation, like each one of them was marking territory. Xuvas ignored them all...even Marr, as much as he loathed to admit it. All the talking was pointless.

Jakarro looked over to Xuvas once everyone else was finished talking, and the juggernaut expected that a few of his temporary comrades behind him were also staring. He tried to ignore the walking hairball, even when Jakarro shook his shoulder as if to remind him that everybody else got their turn to blow hot air and now it was his.

Thankfully, Revan started his own speech and saved Xuvas from having to add a token comment he didn’t even believe in. Jakarro appeared dismayed and motioned to Xuvas with both hands as if the Sith were being robbed of his turn to speak. That the Wookie would assume they’d be taking turns speaking with a person they’d all come to kill (or that he and Xuvas were friends or somehow similar) was annoying beyond belief. The Sith warrior almost felt that he should thank Revan for interrupting all the value signaling.

Revan regarded them all as if they were nothing. “It’s too late for this to be stopped,” Revan said over Jakarro’s protests.

Dark side energy radiated from Revan in all directions, igniting an envious, grasping rage inside of Xuvas and putting them all on the defensive. Purple tendrils of power scalded the landscape, and a few pebbles started to levitate off of the ground.

“I”

An orb of pure energy enveloped Revan, nearly blurring his image as an inordinate amount of power surrounded him.

“Am”

An electrified hum invaded everyone’s ears, filling the entire courtyard.

“REVAN!”

All of that balled up power exploded, exuding an incredible amount of pressure on everyone and everything. Sticks and branches from nearby trees flew around as if picked up in the wind, and every living thing was almost lifted up off their feet by the blast. The pure push didn’t dissipate over time, continuing in a steady stream as Revan manipulated the Force and bent it to his will. Only those able to resist were able to hold on.

Theron Shan was blown away first, followed by Jakarro; neither of them were Force-sensitive and their resistance to Revan’s power was outweighed by the others. Purple beams of energy pressed them against the pillars in the courtyard, twirling them around like a spider in a web until they were enveloped entirely. Shae Viszla attempted to blast into the sky only to be blasted into a tree, and she fell out of view. A few more Imperial and Republic fighters were knocked back in the same manner, followed by the Force-sensitives.

Revan didn’t let up, sending out a wave of energy until Beniko’s feet were finally knocked out from under her. One by one, the others were knocked back - Darth Imperious, the Barsen’thor, the Empire’s Wrath, the Hero of Tython - until they were pinned against pillars or simply blown into the bushes like living debris. There were even a few people who’d been standing in the back, had just arrived, or were hiding in said bushes who were blown away, and Cipher Nine had even approached precariously close to Revan before being blasted almost into the Temple of Sacrifice itself. In the end, even Marr and Satele Shan gave way, the last two who were finally unable to resist the attack.

Revan’s eyes glowed spitefully as he watched the last man standing. A lone Sith juggernaut stood in front of him, kneeling on the ground with a single gauntlet dug into a courtyard tile to hold on. Purple waves and beams of energy flowed over the defiant warrior, bouncing off like water flowing around a boulder. Enraged that one last, stubborn mule of a man was refusing to budge an inch, Revan focused his attention on the last target, only for Xuvas to fight to a standing position.

Pressure. It was all around the Sith pureblood: on his shoulders, on his back, on his mind, on his soul. He couldn’t fight Revan on his own, nor could he beat Revan back without help, but Revan couldn’t make him move. Xuvas couldn’t dish out damage like some of the others, but he could take it better than Revan had expected. The pressure was intense, but Xuvas had lived with pressure for so long that he knew little else in life.

Once again standing, he looked around to see all of the others encapsulated in their own little prisons. Most of them were more experienced than him, and they were all more likely to know how to defeat Revan. In terms of solutions, he was outmatched by the others. In terms of punishment-taking, however, he realized he was the only one who managed to push back against Revan through the Force enough to resist the madman’s power.

Thinking fast, Xuvas examined the purple beams holding all the others against the pillars. He had no idea what exactly Revan was doing to create those, but he had a fairly good idea of what they were for. He turned his back on Revan, allowing the beam sent his way to bounce off of his kinetic barrier as he walked away. The sight of a single recalcitrant opponent turning their back offended Revan even more, but Xuvas ignored the angry yelling as he approached the closest beam to him.

“You...are...a DOUCHEBAG!”

Pulling his lightsaber up with great effort, he ignited the weapon and swung down, literally cutting through the beam. The purple light disappeared, and Mirialan named Naybe fell to the ground and struggled to her feet. She’d seen what he did, and thankfully she learned faster than her master had on Kuat Drive Yards.

In a bizarre turn of events only possible in such turbulent times, the two of them looked at each other, the Mirialan Jedi not yet noticed by Revan. Xuvas and Naybe nodded, forgetting the past and ironically freeing each other’s leaders. Xuvas cut the bond of a Satele Shan while Naybe cut the bond of Marr, freeing up two more people. The older leaders didn’t take long to figure out what had been done, and soon enough, all of the purple beams were being severed.

“No! This is impossible! How?”

Although Xuvas ignored Revan’s demand and continued freeing the others, those he’d freed were still responding to the madman, filling what should have been a normal fight with far too much talking.

“The Force will never abandon the galaxy!” Satele Shan answered as she rushed him.

“Your reign of terror is over!” Beniko added while also engaging Revan.

“Eat this!” Theron Shan said while shooting Revan in the back.

“Unfortunately, even Marr joined in the contest to see who could say the most at inopportune times. “It’s over, Revan,” the dark lord said.

More than half of the people who’d been knocked away for free, all of them attacking Revan at once. Unable to withstand the onslaught, Revan howled one last time while pushing them all away from them with a blast. Only a few lost their footing while the rest braced themselves properly, and the last traces of Revan’s energy dissipated. Defeated, Revan collapsed to the ground. Delusional to the bitter end, he shook his head once the dust had settled, still rejecting the judgmental glares of the people gathered around him in a half-circle.

“No...do you have any idea what you’ve all done?”

Shae Viszla pulled twigs and leaves out of her blaster and threw them on the ground in a symbolic show of disapproval. “Yeah, we stopped you from summoning the Emperor, genius. You wouldn’t have been trying to bring him back-“

A singular, overpowering voice boomed over the courtyard, seeming to reach them from every direction at once. “It’s too late for that,” the ethereal voice echoed from all around them. Everyone stood at the ready, looking around for the source of the voice, though Marr and Satele seemed to realize what was happening.

“The Emperor has returned,” Satele Shan murmured.

“Indeed. I didn’t need any further sacrifices at the Temple...whenever more bloodshed is needed, all that’s necessary is to bring the Republic and the Empire together.”

A flash in the sky was the only visual cue they had, but they could all feel the overwhelming presence leave them. Questions stared back and forth among them as they all sought answers as to what exactly had just happened.

“The Emperor has left the planet without a mortal body to inhabit. This doesn’t make sense,” Marr said.

While all eyes were on him and Satele, the addition of yet another speaker to the already crowded conversation pulled everyone’s attention in another direction. An incredible presence of stillness and bright light descended on them all.

“There is an explanation,” said another ethereal voice, though this one was much softer than that of the Emperor.

In between the gawkers and Revan was...Revan. Except this version was a ghost, incorporeal and nearly transparent.

Satele in particular seemed shocked. “You...you’re the light side presence we detected here on this planet,” she said, clearly in awe of Revan’s weird split personalities.

Revan’s body regarded the Force ghost bearing his image warily, perhaps unsure of whether it was real or not. The ghost didn’t react, instead pausing for dramatic effect as everyone stared at it. “Your observation is correct. And I’ve come to say-“

A lightsaber stabbed directly through the chest of the living Revan, causing the ghost to do a double take and everyone else to gasp.

“Aaaaaarrrrggghhh!” Revan’s corporeal self screamed as he was impaled by a red lightsaber. The weapon was deactivated only to be moved to the other side of his back and activated again, destroying both sides of his chest cavity for sure.

The corpse was violently thrown to the ground, revealing Darth Xuvas behind it. People gasped when they realized that Revan had been summarily executed mid-speech.

Xuvas clapped the dust off of his hands. “What a windbag.” Everyone continued to stare at him for a few more seconds, including the super-lame Force ghost that looked like Revan. “What?” he asked the others, who were now gawking at him.

Awkward silence followed when nobody wanted to be the first one to speak. The ghost seemed to have been delayed in realizing what had just happened, standing as slack jawed as Jakarro.

Satele lost patience with the silence first despite her Jedi pretentious. “Marr!” she whispered while turning to her counterpart.

Marr just facepalmed. “It never stops...”

“What never stops?” Xuvas asked, increasingly irritated at the tendency of so many of them to stare and watch conversations like a spectator sport.

“You interrupted Revan at the most pivotal part!” Theron said angrily.

“Most pivotal...! What about when I was the only one he couldn’t trap and I saved all your sorry behinds!”

Beniko shook her head and looked down. “Xuvas, please.”

“No, I’m being serious, who in the galaxy cares what this guy wants to say?” Xuvas said while pointing at the corpse, which had a second identical ghost slowly rising out of it. “We all came here to stop him and I seized victory when he was weakened! Who cares about anything else?”

Satele joined the chorus of judgmental stares and accusations. “He could bear important information to defeating the Emperor; we need to at least hear him out,” she said, keeping her voice calm but letting her grudge against the juggernaut show in her slight sneer.

“If he knew how to defeat the Emperor then we wouldn’t have needed to fight him in the first-“

Xuvas stopped when he realized that all eyes were on him and there wasn’t a sympathetic pair among them. He wanted to Force scream them all down until they regained their senses, to beat all of them into gratitude for what he’d done, or at least found a single one of them intelligent enough to recognize what a waste of time listening to the two ghosts talk would be. Heat rose up in his neck again, to the point of burning his throat, as he realized that he was once again being blamed for doing his job correctly.

Marr saved him from the silence only to exchange it with another act of public humiliation.

“Xuvas, go to the forward camp and wait with Broonmark and Khem Val. I’ll deliver news of your next assignment there. Leave us to resolve this.”

His blood went from boiling to nearly vaporizing into plasma. “Broonmark and Khem Val? How dare you cage me with them! I’m done being your ‘pet monster,’ Marr!”

Marr held a hand out to caution him. “Not now, Xuvas. Not in public.”

Others began to back away as the Sith juggernaut who’d freed them all vented a mere portion of his growing anger at the closest thing to a father figure he’d had. “Right, so you’re free to do as you wish in public, but the rules of decorum are applied only to guy who saved all of you.”

Finally taking his leave, Xuvas walked right past Marr and Satele, causing a few of the others to visibly jump when he moved by them as if he’d instigate a fight. If that were how they all viewed him - as an irrational monster on a leash - then he couldn’t even stand to look at them anymore. He stomped off, turning back one time to disrupt their meeting with the two ghosts of Revan.

“Have fun with your sick, voyeuristic obsession with standing around like a bunch of jackasses and listening to one guy’s personal conversation about his private mental health issues, you freaks!” he yelled over his shoulder as he left the Temple’s courtyard and traveled back to the forward camp on foot.

To say his pride had been wounded was an understatement. With every step back to the camp, he felt his ire grow and his confidence shrink. When the two ghosts of Revan started a strangely personal, private dialogue in front of the others like some vain reality show celebrity, Xuvas couldn’t bear to be around any of them for a second longer. All he could think of was being as far away from his supposed companions and colleagues as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own Star Wars.


	5. Irreconcilable Difference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tool finally awakes to what he really is, too late to return to his dream. With no desirable options, he finds very little he can do save turn off and tune out.
> 
> End of act one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place in 3638 BBY immediately following the previous chapter.

Every stare from the troopers sent in Xuvas’ direction added fuel to the fire inside of him as he marched into the forward camp in the jungle. By the time he’d walked back from the Temple of Sacrifice, the staff manning the base had most certainly heard the news of Revan’s defeat on holo, and there was already an air of relief among them as a number of the troopers had taken to sitting, chatting, or generally not watching for intruders. As Xuvas walked through without saying a word, there were more people free from duty to whisper among themselves. Were it not for his sense of duty, he might have Force choked one of them as a message to go about their business. Instead, he simply ignored the way they all whispered about whatever disturbance had erupted within the ranks of their leaders and went about his business of leaving.

Starfighters and shuttles were already flying overhead. It had taken Xuvas so long to walk without a vehicle that the others who’d fought at the Temple had probably finished their bizarre voyeuristic witnessing of whatever Revan’s last words were and started to return. Possibilities and impossibilities floated through the Sith warrior’s mind as he collected his foot locker and moved to the far end of the jungle encampment. The words of Darth Imperious’ tactless droid wouldn’t leave him: making a choice which resulted in higher possibilities of survival. Unfortunately, none of the violent fantasies his mind was entertaining bore particularly high chances of survival.

He paused at one end of the tent, shutting his eyes and wishing he could drown out thoughts of his tarnished reputation. To go from the bane of the Republic to a joke for schoolchildren in a single day...the resentment Xuvas felt for the entire operation was crushing him like a pregnant bantha.

By the time he felt the presence of his former role model, there wasn’t enough time to make a dignified exit. He simply waited for the inevitable blame game to start as he listened to Darth Marr’s approach.

Like a distant, disconnected father figure, Marr just stood at the edge of the tent where Xuvas’ belongings had been without entering. As if the younger Sith wasn’t already upset enough, the fact that the senior radiated disappointment made Xuvas seethe at the audacity. He hadn’t felt so wronged by a fellow Sith since his days in the academy prior to the ban on killing other students, yet there was Marr shaking his head as if he were the one with grounds to be offended.

Always the first and last to speak, Marr began filling the air with more talking within seconds. “You can still salvage this,” the dark lord said in his typical flat voice, masking his feelings almost as well as a Jedi.

Xuvas finally turned around to face Marr. The two of them stood a few meters apart, staring each other down in a way the junior Sith hadn’t remembered since the first time he’d had an instructor he truly despised. It hurt...so much. Marr had been his hero, a man held higher in his eyes than his own biological father, yet the man had done nothing except bury the aura of fear and weakness Xuvas had once evoked in the Republic. To then see Marr staring him down as if he’d done something wrong, as if he was the one with something to apologize for, was too painful for Xuvas to bear.

“There’s nothing left to salvage,” Xuvas said, unwilling to give ground anymore, not even if reason tried to steer him otherwise.

Self-assured to the very end, Marr only shook his head again. “You’re not seeing the big picture,” the dark lord said. “You’re not taking a viewpoint that would let you understand this properly.”

“I believe I’ve viewed this on a galactic scale, Lord Marr. So has every other being in the past few hours.”

“What they viewed was hell on a leash, held back from their gates by the Empire’s loose hand in a tenuous partnership which we can end at our convenience. Nothing has changed.”

“A...leash?” Xuvas replied in shock. Only the knowledge that he was speaking to the Empire’s de facto leader prevented him from saying things that he’d regret, but he couldn’t control his tone as well as his words. “So I’m your dog, then? Just like the entire galaxy believes?”

“Do not allow the mockery of fools hold your attention. Laughter in the face of danger is most often a mask for fear.”

“And that’s a fear caused by you, not by your dog. Not anymore. Not after you used me to make your point.”

“Think carefully before you make accusations,” Marr said with a pointed finger - the same warning that he’d hit Xuvas for earlier. Xuvas ate the bitter plate of crow and restrained his rage until he felt lightheaded. Marr waited to be sure there was no retort before he continued. “I was hoping you’d posses the insight to comprehend our plan without the need for a patronizing explanation, but it appears that I misjudged you.

“Equality is contrary to our nature in the face of our imbalanced reality; each citizen is treated in proportion to what they can provide. To deal with you as I deal with other members of the Order would have destroyed your reputation far more quickly.”

“So it was destroyed, then; just more slowly than the alternative.”

A mild, unintentional Force push emanated from Marr, shaking the tent and everything around it with a small tremor. Trees shook and the personnel in the area took notice, though none of them knew the true source. Xuvas represses his anger again, allowing his sense of self-preservation to override his rage.

Impassioned to an extent atypical for him, Marr allowed his impatience to shine through even as he started to step away from the tent.

“Think very carefully when you ask yourself how many of your peers could earn my individual request. Think very carefully when you ask yourself exactly how valuable this opportunity is. Think very carefully when you ask yourself just how many of your colleagues could be approached by me personally in an attempt to mend ties.”

Marr finally began to walk away, the disappointment pouring out of him so profusely that every Force-sensitive in the planet could feel it. “Don’t let your stubbornness blind you to the chance I’ve just given you,” he said one last time before taking his leave.

A bitter taste settled into Xuvas’ mouth as he watched Marr walk away. Not only had he been disrespected in front of the galaxy, but he’d also been denied a voice in his final interaction with his former role model. The interaction had been more like a scolding session back at boarding school than any sort of real offer.

Ego and pride crippled, Xuvas didn’t stop for a moment to consider what Marr was saying and left the tent, walking in the opposite direction. He’d performed his role, succeeded in tanking Revan for the others, and listened to the final reprimand. He’d fulfilled all duties to the fullest, even giving up his reputation to Marr as a sacrificial lamb for whatever point was being made to the Republic. Breathing heavily and blinking away a few angry tears beneath his helmet, he started to walk for the provisional shuttles just outside of the forward camp.

Footsteps pattered on the rainforest soil behind him as another dark side user tried to catch up with him. He tried to ignore it and kept on walking, but his counterpart seemed determined to waste her breath.

“What are you doing?” Beniko asked while trying to grab his attention.

“Walking to the shuttles. One is supposed to leave to the Imperial Fleet in half an hour.”

“Wait, Xuvas, just wait a minute. Think about what you’re doing.”

“I think that I’m leaving since my assignment here is complete.”

Beniko stuck her arm out to stop him from moving; she was one of the few people he wouldn’t outright hit for doing that, and she seemed to have figured that out because she wouldn’t budge. “And you know that if you storm out like this, after what happened at the Temple, that you’re done for. Come on, just sit down and wait for a minute. Consider your options.”

“I did.” He nudged her arm out of the way and continued walking for a moment until a tree root was Force-ripped out of the ground to block his way, obviously Beniko’s doing. “I’ve had enough. I’m not going to be anybody’s goon. I’m done.”

When he just walked around the root, Beniko stopped following him but tried to persuade him one more time. “Please, Xuvas, the Empire is at a critical moment; we’ve lost so many of our kind. We can’t afford to lose any more.”

“If that were true, Marr would have tried harder when reaching out.”

“You put him in a difficult spot, Xuvas.”

Gritting his molar teeth together, he stopped for a split second and wondered if he’d just imagined that comment or not. Of everybody there, Beniko was the closest thing he had to a friend. They weren’t actual friends despite what she seemed to think, but they were almost friends. To hear her repeating what Marr had likely told her, like a parrot, was the moment when he washed his hands of the Sith Order.

At least she’d tried to help him, albeit in her own mistaken manner, and he spared her any pithy comments as he continued walking. He could feel her wilt in the Force as her hope of convincing him not to leave eroded, but he tried to shut himself out from all other life forms.

As he approached the cleared part of the forest where the Imperial shuttles were parked, he passed by one of his least favorite members of their small coalition. Leaning against a tree, Theron Shan folded his arms in disapproval at the Sith warrior. The cyborg truly didn’t have enough fear for his own good.

“So that’s it, quitter?” Theron asked with the sort of mock discouragement that friends might share in a locker room to mask actual concern. Unlucky for Theron, however, the two of them weren’t friends, and he realized he’d made a mistake when Xuvas dropped the foot locker with a loud thud and removed a gauntlet. “Hey, it’s a joke-“

Before Theron could grab his pistol, Xuvas rushed forward and slugged the cyborg in the abdomen bare-handed. Though Xuvas didn’t use the Force with his punch, he knew how to fight, and Theron folded like a paper cup under the impact. Theron’s only attempt at a witty retort resulted in blood coughed up on the ground, and Xuvas pretended nothing has happened as he put his glove back on and picked up his locker.

Emerging from the underbrush, he walked among the troopers tending the shuttles. They didn’t seem to have known about any incidents and paid him no mind. Without saying a word, Xuvas entered the next shuttle to leave the Yavin System, claiming a seat inside without informing the pilot and speaking to nobody. Slurs he felt he’d borne that day still stung him, and he just closed his eyes as he waited until the shuttle took off.

“I’m done being anybody’s joke,” he murmured to himself as the thrusters ignited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own Star Wars.


	6. Spurious Withdrawal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His ego bruised by his own role model, a certain pureblood warrior throws his hands in the air and quits, thinking he can walk away from the Sith Order.
> 
> Part one of act two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place in 3637 BBY, though less than a full year after the previous one. This is prior to the start of the Invasion of Ziost.

Rhelg. Moderate in climate compared to the extremes of other planets in Sith Space. Holy on a level between Korriban and Ziost. Isolated more than almost any other Imperial world.

On one craggy, cracked plateau jutting into an ocean, a lone shrine rose over the valleys and natural rock bridges. Aside from the coastal avians above and the piscoids in the water below, there were no signs of biological life in the area. The dusty, unused shrine sat empty aside from its lifeless guardians, ancient guardian androids so old that they still ran on archaic features such as passwords and reset buttons. For hundreds of years, perhaps thousands, they’d waited for the one strong enough to overpower them to claim the shrine as a rightful possession.

What they got was an Imperial assault shuttle swooping down on them and a Sith warrior diving out of it so fast their circuits couldn’t even respond.

The Sith hit the ground with heavy durasteel boots and rolled, moving in between the ancient guardians too fast for them to see. Rusty gears creaked and dull sword blades scraped as they were all disarmed, and only a single one of them had the initiative to fire its antique combustion weapon that fired physical projectiles. The Sith charged toward that droid first, locking arms with it in a clinch of metal.

Without warning, a Rattataki joined him, grabbing the droid from behind and disabling it via the millennia old reset button she’d only learned about from a random infographic on outdated machinery. The droid froze in place, still posed as if in a wrestling match even when the duo let it go, but the sound of other guardians firing their aging propulsion guns raised the call to action.

One by one, they dismantled the guardians, slowly claiming the shrine without damaging its protectors. It was painstaking work to disable them all without fighting back, and the effort combined with the humidity caused them both to feel pinpricks of heat even beneath their armor.

By the time they’d secured the area, the shuttle landed in front of the shrine. The last true possession he’d been able to afford after his ejection from the Sith Order, it was the one he didn’t plan on keeping for himself. The contents were of more interest, however, and the reality of his choice didn’t settle in until the doors of the shuttle opened, revealing the last few people he could count on in the galaxy.

His human pilot, Orcina, exited first alongside a fabricator droid, followed by Jan and Fran, two Duro servants who’d been with his family since he was a teenager. They all stared at the ancient shrine with a range of reactions from awe to confusion. Orcina was the first to say what they were thinking.

“Are you sure about this, my lord?”

Darth Xuvas ushered the fabricator droid to the guardians for repairs, not fully paying attention to her question. “Hmm? Yes, it’s actually mine. The district admin agreed I could legally keep it if I could fight my way in. I think he didn’t realize how badly these droids needed repairs...”

The Duros started moving boxes of Xuvas’ stuff out of the shuttle alongside a few housekeeping droids, but Orcina remained motionless as the rest of them began the work of actually moving in to the place. “What I mean, my lord, is...are you sure this is really what you want?”

Too awestruck by the final realization that he truly has escaped what he felt was a prison sentence in the Order, he didn’t really consider her questions. “Absolutely. I mean, look at this place!” He swept his hands across the compound surrounding the shrine, ignoring the ‘welcome’ sign over the door of the library that screeched and fell off the building. “Once I fix it up a bit, it will be the best retreat I could ask for. That any student of dark knowledge could ask for.”

The human looked up at him skeptically, but she wasn’t the type to voice concerns, especially around him. “If you insist, my lord. We’ll stay for as long as it takes to help you get set up.”

Motioning for her to follow the Duros inside the part of the shrine in which devotees once lived, he hand-waved away any doubts. “I can handle the time-consuming work around the place; you all don’t need to help beyond moving stuff inside. After that, you’re all free to come by and stay any time.”

She looked back at him, still a bit skeptical but not saying it out loud. Once she was inside, Pjiega, his Rattataki bodyguard, approached him at the shuttle.

“The droid is fixing the droids,” she said at about her normal level of articulation. “Should we get the stuff inside the shuttle?”

“Yes, there’s no reason to wait. We can at least move everything out into the compound itself until we make enough space inside the living quarters.”

The two of them got to work removing what belongings he’d deemed necessary to live with on his own. Clothes, spare droid parts, a speeder bike, his old weapon and armor, tech for his amenities, communications gear, and a carton of exceptionally personal artifacts. It was far less than what he was leaving back with them at his apartment on Dromund Kaas, but one didn’t move to such a remote area in order to live like a king.

By the time he and Pjiega had finished moving everything out of the shuttle, the domestic droids had nearly finished vacuuming all of the dust out of the place. There was still minor maintenance work which was necessary for the big move, and the droids needed all of that day as well as the night to finish the work. Even the fabricator droid was needed to patch up parts of the shrine once it had finished modernizing the guardian droids, and the party of five ended up camping inside the shuttle for the first night.

By the second day, they were all finished helping their former commander move in to his new place, at least provisionally. Resting for that day was a given after the amount of work needed to restore the shrine and its compound to livable conditions, though they did get over saying their goodbyes early on.

But one day turned into two and then to three, with neither the Sith warrior nor his underlings bringing up the wampa in the room that was their inevitable departure. At the end of the third day, Xuvas found those once unde this command - now friends more than anything - sleeping on his couches and rugs after having over eaten and binge watched badly dubbed Chiss holodramas. They all seem almost knocked out, sleeping deeply while curled up around the mess they’d all made. Years of his life spent in battle were able to recede in moments like that, and he felt the quiet scene to be a welcome rest.

Unable to move without waking them, though, he tiptoed out of the compound for a nighttime walk. The guardian droids saluted more fluidly when he exited, limber from the chassis and operating system updates. Having worn sandals for the first time in twenty years, he walked slowly on the soft grass outside, approaching a cliff at the end of the peninsula overlooking one of Rhelg’s oceans. The nearest proper city was half a day by speeder, thus reducing light pollution enough for him to actually see the stars above. They reflected on the waves below, shimmering as they offered a glimpse of the resentment and even the remorse he’d left behind. Even in his quiet getaway, his hate still thrived. He hoped he would become so complacent that he’d lose it.

Lighting a small brazier at the top of the cliff, he continued to watch the stars until he heard Pjiega’s familiar harsh footsteps approach. She’d woken up, though being his bodyguard, she’d grown used to staying up late in watch when others slept. She greeted him with a deference that now felt over-the-top and watched the stars with him.

“You have a cool place, master,” she said while watching.

“Thanks. I suppose it’s a place for all of you, too, when you’re free. Just take care of the place back at Kaas City.”

Unlike the others, Pjiega lacked subtlety and tact. Whether due to her status as a former slave or any Rattataki culture that she still clung to, he didn’t know. “How long will you stay here?” she asked, showing legitimate concern for perhaps only the second or third time since he’d known her.

None of them had dared to ask until then, but he knew the conversation would come. “I don’t know, I just don’t know. As soon as I find an opportunity to reasonably return, I guess. Right now it would just be unhealthy.”

“Unhealthy to return?”

“Yes.”

“But you love the Empire, master. It’s what we live for.”

He sighed deeply as stopped trying to locate the Dromund System in the sky for a moment. “I live and breathe the Empire, and I can never stop. But my kind thrives on the dark side - hate, anger, fear. It’s my being, and it’s my fuel. I got to a point where I couldn’t express any of that freely; a point where releasing my anger would have made me a hypocrite.”

“I don’t understand, master.”

“It was my superiors. I’ve campaigned so hard against the infighting among the Sith, to the point where Darth Aruk sent me on missions to pass judgment between feuding parties on occasion. I was vocally opposed to Sith backstabbing one another to the point where I published work on how it could be reduced. Yet I found myself reaching a point where all of my hate was aimed at Darth Marr...him and Aruk, and many of the other members of the Council. I felt used, like a tool for their own posturing, not even for fighting the Republic.

“If I’d continued like that, I would have done things I’d regret. Things I’m ideologically opposed to. It wasn’t working out anymore...I need a break from them. I just need to sort things out, and this is the type of planet where I can commune with the dark side and work out the contradictions in my head without disturbance.”

Head down as she listened, Pjiega nodded and considered his words for a moment. Though uneducated - she was functionally illiterate - she seemed to grasp his decision to withdraw better than his former colleagues in the Sith Order.

“We’ll take care of everything in Kaas City and await your return. I know what it’s like to be unable to tell jackasses what I think of them...I know it really well. I trust you with my life if you trust me with yours, but I wish things didn’t have to be this way.”

“You’ll all be supported. Financially, I mean. There’s enough to maintain the apartment and that shuttle for a long time.”

“It won’t be the same, though. We did a lot, master...I never thought I’d leave that mining pit on Dromund Kaas. When we were fighting for the Empire, we went to places in every corner of the galaxy...I got to taste animals and plants from every sector. I killed people from places I’d never even heard of.”

She began to look wistful. Not sad; Pjiega didn’t know what that was. But she did look wistful and less pissed-off than usual. There was a shine to her eye that was almost childlike in its simplicity. She was by no means a simpleton, but her less-complicated outlook made him envious.

“We did things when we were all a team, things nobody like me could have thought of. I remember when we pulled out of hyperspace and flew through a giant cloud of gas just to see what it was like...I remember watching the effects of a quasar at a safe distance, seeing the ergosphere of a black hole, and watching Republic ships exploding in space without oxygen to fuel an actual fire...I was finally able to do more than cleaning toilets and breaking rocks.

“Time to rest and hang out will be neat. I grew up in Kaas City a slave; I definitely want to see what it’s like living there without anybody who can boss me around. But whenever you’ve found what you’re looking for here...when the dark side or Force or whatever tells you it’s time to start stomping Jedi again...you call us. I’d walk away from a winning card game on Hutta to serve again.”

She continued staring out over the ocean and into the sky as if reliving all those adventures again, very different from the furious creature he’d saved from a mundane mining operation years ago. “I didn’t know you were this deep, Pjiega,” he said as he watched her. Others might be offended by the implication, but she was blunt and direct enough to take the words at face value only.

“Me neither. I impress myself sometimes,” she replied without a hint of sarcasm.

The two of them shared a laugh and continued stargazing for a while. Before long, he started to yawn, and even she appeared a bit drowsy.

“We’ll do all that again, and more. One day. I promise that when the time is right, we’ll glorify the Empire again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own Star Wars.


	7. Manchild in the Shell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the rest of the galaxy moves on, a spurned Sith warrior tries to remain behind. When an old friend calls, he must make the choice between responding or burning a trusty bridge.
> 
> Part two of act two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place at the inception of the Invasion of Ziost in 3637 BBY.

Eventually, his followers-come-friends did have to take their leave. Though Xuvas had chosen the path of a lone student of the dark side for a period, the others still had their own lives to live. After three days of sleeping over like a bunch of teenagers, his friends had returned to Dromund Kaas to tend to his property in his stead and seek their own paths in the meantime. The quality of holocall signals had improved, and they were able to send him a message when they’d arrived in his shuttle at the Kaas City Spaceport.

The first few months were pure bliss. Despite having a sizable library to go through as well as every entertainment service available on holo in Imperial, Chiss, and Hutt Space, he’d had nary a moment of rest in weeks. The domestic droids needed direction in refurbishing the compound, he’d taken his time in organizing his living space, he was trying his hand at a hydroponic farm, and the guardian droids had been updated enough to function as combat training droids. There was no shortage of work to do, and he hadn’t even gotten over the feeling of moving in to a new place yet.

He hadn’t yet found the time to ride his speeder to the nearest town for a trip when his first unexpected call came. Tending to his plants outside, he heard a familiar ringing from the living quarters next to the shrine proper. He dusted his hands off, put on a mask to conceal himself, and walked inside to find that the channel marked unknown was calling for the second time. To his chagrin, the face which greeted him when he opened the channel was one he’d never liked.

An image of the Republic agent Theron Shan popped up. Theron didn’t appear any happier to see Xuvas, though the two of them tried to be civil at first.

“Darth Xuvas.”

“Theron.”

They both stared at each other and tried not to hurl insults, but a tense silence ensued. Xuvas hadn’t initiated the call, but his human interlocutor wouldn’t speak, and the pureblood had to lower himself to inquiring about the purpose of the call while pretending not to be annoyed.

“I’m assuming this isn’t a social call.”

Theron didn’t look mad, but reaching out had obviously been difficult on him. “No, I suppose not. Believe me when I say that I wouldn’t contact you if it weren’t important.”

“You have my attention.”

“Good. I’ll try to keep this brief; details won’t necessarily change the bottom line.” Once they were discussing work, Theron seemed more comfortable. “The Emperor has returned. He’s already begun the final steps of his plan. He’s close to gaining enough strength to escape beyond known space.”

For a few seconds, Xuvas felt a mild sense of duty swell within him. He’d been fighting against the Empire’s fallen leader for quite some time prior to his withdrawal, and a part of him still felt like he was waiting for the call of duty to reach him. A stronger part bristled at the intrusion to his solitude, however, and the internal conflict caused him to freeze.

“I see,” was all he managed to say.

“He’s on Ziost. I don’t know if you’ve been watching the news, but it’s a mess down there. Strange happenings and security incidents have made it into the mainstream news, and Lana had discovered even more incidents which were censored. This is bad - he can use this entire planet to fuel his change.”

Xuvas ran a hand over the back of his head beneath the mask. Worried and wary of allowing himself to be pulled away from the remoteness he’d sought, he worded his question carefully. “So you and Beniko are working together again. What do you have at your disposal?”

“A handful of people you know. Mostly people from the Yavin coalition, if you remember.”

A bitter, acrid taste entered Xuvas’ mouth. “I can’t forget,” he muttered.

“Good. That means you know our team’s capabilities,” Theron said, unaware of the psychological can of worms he’d opened. “We have good people here, but it’s still less than a dozen, and everyone is spread out. We need all the help we can get.”

Painful memories of his separation on Yavin 4 stung the pureblood, and a sense of doom started to surround him. His fear override his hate, and he almost felt like the walls of his new home would collapse. The threat to his new world, to a life away from Sith politics and his subsequent emotional fatigue, felt real to him, and he instinctively shook his head.

“Good luck with that.” Xuvas moved to end the call, causing Theron to glare at him.

“What! Listen to me, this is no joke! The galaxy is at stake!”

“It always is. The Empire and the Republic always survive. It seems we can’t get rid of all of you.”

“Damnit, Xuvas, stop playing games! Everything we tried to stop at Yavin is happening right now. However bad it seemed with Revan, it’s a hundred times worse now!”

“I’m sure it seems that way when you’re the one dealing with it. But you’ll all succeed in the end, and a year from now, you’ll move on to the next crisis.”

“I can’t believe I wasted my time on you! Have fun living in a galaxy you’ve done nothing to defend, then. I hope you enjoy being a useless lump leeching off of the efforts of people better than you!”

Xuvas reached for the holographic button to end the call. “Say hi to your dad for me.”

For half a second, Theron gaped in disbelief. The human really mustn’t have realized how much the pureblood disliked him if he were that surprised. “You son of a-“

“Block list,” Xuvas chuckled as he locked the channel out from contacting him again.

“Very clever retort, my lord,” one of the domestic droids said mechanically.

Laughing to himself, Xuvas reveled in his evil deed for the day. He hadn’t interacted with other biological beings in quite some time, and the opportunity to answer the calling of the dark side helped him to temporarily forget the sense of endangerment to his new life. He was about to walk outside and revel in it when the holoterminal beeped again.

It was Beniko. “Oh no,” he sighed as he answered.

Her image appeared this time. As always, she was surprisingly reserved for one of their kind, and she gave little outward sign of how she was feeling. “Lord Xuvas, it’s Lana,” she said while bowing.

Still in defensive mode, he tried to dismantle any attempts to browbeat him into service. “I’m not a lord anymore; not to another Sith, at least.” She frowned in disapproval already, a reaction he’d never received from her. This would be a tough call. “I think I know why you’re calling.”

“I hope that Theron briefed you well, then. I didn’t hear much from him...Xuvas, did you mock him for his dad-issues? Seriously?”

When her fellow Sith didn’t answer, she pinched the bridge of her nose and looked far more frustrated with him personally than he could ever remember. “What’s going on? We don’t have much time. We need you down here with the others.”

A feeling of being trapped settled into his mind. She wouldn’t be toyed with like Theron, and he’d never really argued with her, so he didn’t know what quite to expect. “I assessed the situation based on what he told me. From what I understood, the situation will be under control very soon. He didn’t say that, but that’s my judgment, based in experience.”

She wasn’t convinced. “Theron spoke to you for about a minute. There’s no way you could possess the requisite information to know that. There’s much more going on, and I can explain the details to you once you’re here with the others, but time is of the essence.”

“Beniko, I respect you, so I don’t want to waste your time. I won’t be joining you. If you want advice or a second opinion, I’ll offer it, but I don’t want you to get your hopes up about me going there.”

“This isn’t a time to illustrate an ideological point! Xuvas, everything we expected, everything we tried to stop, it’s already started! Actions have been set in motion and we’re working with limited staff on the ground. This is it - the battle to end all major threats to the galaxy.”

Drawing a deep sigh, Xuvas stretched his back as if he were about to do heavy lifting. “Look. I’ll tell it to you in more detail than I did with Theron. Every few years, a threat comes along that we all think is new. We all think it’s different. We all think it’s the end of the galaxy.”

“You can’t compare this to what’s come before!”

“I can, Beniko. I can compare it to what came before and what came after. Before any of us were born, the Sith escaped extinction by the Jedi, the Cathar escaped extinction by the Mandalorians, and literally everybody escaped extinction by the Rakata. Long after we’re dead, more threats will come and they’ll never stop until creation is ended by heat death. Those will seem like the apocalypse too, but in the end, life will go on until conditions conducive to it naturally break down. Individual heroism has nothing to do with it.”

She listened, ever polite even when mad. And at that moment, she looked furious. He’d seen her angry, but not at him, and he wasn’t sure how she’d react. “This isn’t the speech of a true red Sith. This is a stunningly callous apathy, entirely without passion. These are...these are the words of a man who gave up.” She looked up at him again, absolutely burning with acrimony in a way he didn’t even see her show to Jedi. Although he didn’t want to disappoint his almost-friend, the way she focused her anger on him yet not the Republic caused him to question how well he’d actually known her.

“I guess that’s what I am. I’m a true Sith, a lover of philosophy and lore, but I’ve given up on mortal, fallible beings. The dark side permeates everything we do, grants us all our power, and breaks our chains, but the Sith Order is a man-made institution. Let it join hands with other man-made institutions since it seems to eager to end hostilities with the Republic. They can keep on fretting over every interstellar crisis, and keep on compromising on whatever principles they retain, but I’m done. I’ll be right here, living my life however the Force leads me. If my tomb is here, at last I’ll have a nice pad as a ghost.”

Even though she still wouldn’t interrupt, her response was much swifter. He wish she’d shown as much passion when spying on the Republic as when trying to guilt-trip him into working alongside them.

“I never really knew you then, Xuvas. You have my thanks for opening my eyes.”

Her anger was repressed, but she put up a good front. “I hope you enjoy systematically tearing apart the remnants of your own reputation. When you’re finished dismantling your own renown and good name, you can thank those of us who bore the responsibility of supporting your parasitism on the galaxy.” As brief as her words were, they cut deeper than his, and he fought off doubts about his subconscious motivations caused by what she’d said.

“Are you done?” he asked tersely, fearful of further revealing discussion with her. His rudeness saved him from her insight because he’d caught her off guard.

“May the Force guide you,” Beniko said, and then she ended the holocall before he could return the wish.

Xuvas stood and stared at his holoterminal for a long time after the call, seething at her words. He’d had to make a point to avoid arguing with Beniko in the future. If she ever spoke to him again, that is. Too upset to remember what he’d been doing, he took his mask off and flung it across the room for the droids to pick up and walked outside, the rest of his afternoon spoiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own Star Wars.


	8. Words Left Unsaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In his self-imposed exile, a Sith warrior receives news of the outside world rather late. The fall of a dear friend, no matter what bad blood existed between them, proves to be painful enough to overshadow his solitude.
> 
> Part three of act two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place in 3637 BBY, just as the first skirmish with the Eternal Empire ends.

Never had Xuvas expected early retirement to leave him with so little free time.

Every six standard weeks or so, he’d receive off-world visitors. Pjiega was the most frequent face among his friends, followed by Orcina. His two Duro servants even came to visit once during the first year or so, though they spent the whole time worrying about his apartment back on Dromund Kaas. In between visits, he’d take his speeder to the nearest town for a few days to stock up on supplies and to simply be in a populated area based on Sith civilization. Between all those visits as well as his personal projects around the shrine’s compound, he barely found time to sit and meditate or even simply enjoy the sound of silence.

Not that he was complaining. Almost a year in to his long vacation from the galaxy on Rhelg, he still felt like he’d just moved in.

On that particular morning, he’d been disassembling his speeder bike and reassembling it under the tutelage of his fabrication droid just in case he’d ever need to perform on the spot repairs in the wilds between his shrine and the town. Grease, copper wires, and spare parts laid about him as he sat on a rock he used as a stool and worked the small bits of the speeder’s engine using only his fingers.

He’d gotten a bit of grime under his fingernails, and there was a small cut on one of his thick digits. He wiped the blood on his tank top only to find that it was already stained with sweat, oil, and dirt from the work he’d been doing since sunrise. Realizing how thirsty he was, he set the parts down on the ground and left to a Chiss-manufactured cooler with a two-hundred year battery.

“Make sure none of the parts get lost,” he told the fabricator droid as he left to get himself a drink. The droid beeped in response and stood watch over the dismantled bike parts, waiting for whenever he’d return.

Taking a sip from the carbonated citrus juice he’d bought on his last trip into town, he took a look at the yard inside of the shrine’s compound. The whole area was littered with tech from inside he’d been refurbishing, artifacts or relics he’d been restoring, or various hobbies he’d started without finishing. There was no shortage of work to be done, but a quick glance at the sun of the Rhelg System made him realize that the hottest part of the day was approaching. He held the cold bottle to his forehead for a moment and decided to go inside for a while.

The living quarters between the shrine and the library were a mess of more pet projects of his. Board games, model starships, odd collections of knickknacks, and exercise equipment he used wherever and dropped wherever were mixed in with cartons he’d temporarily used for stuff he couldn’t decide where to store, alongside holy items he’d brought in from the shrine to be cleaned. Taking a seat on a liquid bag chair he’d have to recycle soon, he decided to finish his drink in front of the streaming HoloNet in case anything caught his eye.

“Find a documentary about Chevin comedies,” he said out loud once he was settled in.

The holoterminal he used for entertainment flicked on. “More than twenty search results found,” the terminal’s mechanical voice announced.

“Go with whichever has the most views from users with funny-show preferences,” he said to the holoterminal.

Without delay, a documentary in Galactic Basic started to play about the history of modern comedies from the pachydermoid species. For a species considered one of the Empire’s more embarrassing allies, the Chevins actually had a lot of great observational humor in their shows. He took long drags from his drink only when there was a lull in the documentary, and thus when he was safe to drink. Otherwise he risked choking or squirting the liquid through his nose. People who were that funny couldn’t be bad, and he’d remember to oppose anyone calling them alien scum.

About half an hour in to the documentary, though, there was a noticeable change. It wasn’t in the air or in the immediate enrivonment; the holoterminal kept on playing and his domestic droids kept on cleaning. The change wasn’t in the ground, the planet, or even the star system, yet Xuvas felt the shift. The shift wasn’t within him, but he felt its onset deep in his core. Deep and unsettling, the shift began as a dull ache of the inevitable, and it progressed very slowly. The increase in the oppressive sense of pressure continued unabated, however, to the point that he felt his chest to be sure that his heartbeat was regular.

When the pressure became too much, he waved his hand for the holoterminal’s system to pause the documentary. “Something is wrong,” he said out loud, but to no avail. None of this devices or droids had the sort of expensive programming which allowed independent thought and comprehension of subtex, so he received no reply. “Check planetary news. There’s a disturbance in the Force.”

“Scanning. No news stories beyond the scope of normality on Rhelg.”

A feeling like the air was being stolen from his lungs began to form, and the pressure was mounting too fast. “Check all planetary news in Sith Space. Adjust the search scope to account for normality on a multi-stellar scale.”

“Scanning. No news stories beyond the scope of normality in Sith Space.”

He hummed in consternation. “Alright...but I don’t feel anyone here.” All of a sudden, the air caught in his throat as if he’d swallowed tough food without chewing, and he became concerned. “Health scan,” he called to one of the domestic droids who had a medical uplink.

“Scan complete. No abnormalities, my lord,” the kitchen droid replied before returning to its work.

Despite having no valid reason, Xuvas began to panic. Fear took over and he scrambled to find a solution. “Check all Imperial news channels for abnormalities!” he ordered the holoterminal as an unexplained pain settled into the center of his chest.

“Scanning. Search parameters too wide,” said the holoterminal’s speaker said. “One thousand plus abnormalities found in all quadrants.”

“Arrange by number of hits and read the headlines to me.”

“Scanning.”

The holoterminal beeped and scrolled through boxed images of twenty separate news stories. The first image, one of recorded footage of a starship battle, stung Xuvas in a way he couldn’t describe. The Force itself bent around his neck and dug at his nerves.

“That one. What is it?”

The holoterminal beeped and then played the image of a random Imperial newscaster. “Yes, the upper echelons of the military have already confirmed to reporters despite the Dark Council’s silence. Darth Marr, the de facto leader of our great Empire, has been confirmed as dead.”

The droids all jumped at the sound of breaking glass. Xuvas even jumped despite the sound having come from his own drink when he dropped the bottle on the floor. The muscles in the center of his back cramped up, and he bent forward in his bag chair in reaction.

“Confirm! Find another report, search for any contrary reports!”

“Scanning. No contrary reports found. Story repeated across six-hundred fifty-seven news channels in Imperial HoloNet.”

Xuvas felt his fear painfully transform into sorrow faster than he’d expected. When he tried to stand up, he almost fell over, and his hands shook as he tried to resist his kitchen droid’s attempt to help him stand.

“No! Keep searching!”

“All channels searched. No contrary reports found.”

“How!” the Sith yelled. “Tell me how!”

“Scanning. Reports from survivors found.”

The holoterminal started to replay eyewitness testimony, but Xuvas swiped away the screen. “Filter, damnit!”

“Filtering. Eyewitness testimony lays blame for the failure of the joint Imperial-Republic fleet against an unidentified third party on insufficient manpower and firepower.”

A few more news stories continued to play in the holoterminal’s multiple screen feature, but Xuvas’ ears filled with white noise. Long after he’d already cut off ties with his former role model, after he’d isolated himself from all his former colleagues, the news to end all news cut him too deeply. No amount of bitterness could make him numb to the sense of loss, nor could any amount of denial change the fact that he’d always assumed he’d be able to reconcile with Marr one day.

Trembling, he pushed past his two domestic droids and tried to run out of the shrine’s living quarters, stubbing his toe on the door frame in the process. Limping beyond the walls of the compound beyond which the droids wouldn’t step, he walked onto the peninsula overlooking the ocean. The midday sun beat down on him, but he didn’t even notice as the guilt settled in and forced him to replay the headlines as he approached the gilded brazier overlooking the water.

Insufficient manpower and firepower. The words wouldn’t get out of his head, even when he collapsed to his knees. Insufficient manpower and firepower.

Marr had humiliated him, disrespected him, and hurt him professionally and personally when they’d worked together. Xuvas buried his face in his hands upon realization that he’d never be able to ask Marr why, or to see if his former hero would ever apologize. He’d never get the chance to say he still wished he could look up to Marr, to say that he wanted to go back to how things were, to tell Marr that he looked up to the man more than his own father. Marr was gone due to insufficient support. Due to a lack of backup.

Truly cut off from all he’d once known, Xuvas knelt on the cliff over the water and let the shame consume him. For the first time in a very long time, he wept, unable to bring his former leader back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own Star Wars.


	9. Blackout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isolation from the world sounds nice on paper, but the world may not have decided it’s done with you yet.
> 
> Part four of act two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place in 3636 BBY, toward the end of the Eternal Empire’s conquest. Rhelg is deep in Sith Space, so this is predicated on the assumption that it would have been one of the last worlds to finally fall.

The holoterminal in the now-tidy living quarters flickered slightly as the stoic face of Malavai Quinn stood at attention. Ever the consummate professional, the captain put up a polite yet distant front. Even when only viewing a hologram, though, Xuvas could sense the human’s pain.

The two of them didn’t know each other well, but he’d always respected Quinn’s efforts for the Empire. Seeing the captain in such a poor emotional condition saddened the Sith warrior, but there was little he could do.

Quinn was silent for a while, betraying the pain which the man sought to control. “And you’re sure that your search was thorough?” Quinn asked insistently.

Xuvas adjusted his cap and cowl around the mask he used whenever he was near the terminal. The act bought him a few moments as he tried to find the most respectful words for a fellow citizen. “Captain, I can assure you that I had access to surveillance drones on every continent of this planet. If the satellites had missed anything, then the drones would have caught it.”

Xuvas didn’t mention the expense he’d covered for the search; Quinn would surely have taken such a comment as a complaint. The captain was far more sensitive than he let on, and the loss of his former commander had obviously affected him.

Quinn looked down for a moment. “Public registries, religious records, word of mouth...I’m assuming you’ve checked every medium?”

“I can assure you that I’ve checked everywhere and to the utmost extent that anyone down here could. The survival of the Emperor’s Wrath would be a blessing for us all; this was both for your sake and everyone else’s; this was more than simply a favor to you, and I have a vested interest as well. Trust me when I say that I devoted myself to this task full-time, and that if the Wrath were here, I would have found out. I’m...sorry, Captain, but I can at least give you the peace of mind knowing that you must continue your search elsewhere. The Emperor’s Wrath isn’t on Rhelg.”

For the first time since the Sith had known him, Quinn made a facial expression. A sincere frown spread across the human’s face, if briefly, but he swiftly repressed his disappointment. “I’ve asked far too much of you, Darth Xuvas.”

“No, you haven’t. I’m used to leaving holocalls from former colleagues unanswered; were this merely a personal thing for you, I’d have refused. I don’t mind searching in this case. If I do here anything, I’ll contact you again.”

Having regained his composure, Quinn didn’t linger for long. The captain squared his shoulders and bowed, signaling that he needed to move on in his obsessive search. “I can’t express my gratitude enough. I can assure you that this won’t be forgotten. Farewell,” Quinn said in an even voice that was abrupt by his overly formal standards. The loss of the man’s commander had obviously hurt, though Xuvas tried to remain as distant from the trials and tribulations of his former colleagues as possible.

Removing his cloak and mask and handing them to one of his droids, he left into the spotless kitchen to grab his datapad and mark down the end of his assistance to Quinn. Living alone had helped Xuvas to develop the sort of habits he’d expected to learn in his old age, such as recording his daily activity and annotating old Sith texts like he’d done as a child. The planetary search for his fellow Sith Lord and former colleague had occupied the better part of a few months, marking the first time he’d spent more than a weekend away from his shrine. The end of the search required a special entry, and Xuvas walked around the neatly organized living quarters of the compound as he detailed his role in Malavai Quinn’s obsession and his own worldwide tour of Rhelg in the process.

After a mind-numbing hour of dictation into the pad, an intercom in the hallway linked to the main holoterminal beeped at him. “Pending call from Dromund Kaas, Kaas City, Muhua residence,” the mechanical voice announced as he walked by.

He paused. The second call in one day was a surprise; since he’d moved out there, he’d gotten used to less frequent contact with other people, and he’d expected to go a few days without hearing from another living being. The call was even more surprising due to the source of the call.

“Open the connection,” he replied to the intercom. “I’ll come to the main room.”

Without donning any clothes that would conceal his identity, he walked back into the spotless main room and set down the datapad. The sight in the holoterminal made him smile for the first time in weeks, and he walked slowly as he took a seat.

A six-year-old child stared back at him, dressed well but hiding under a blanket. A completely purblooded red Sith, the boy had ears and brow ridges that were quite distinctive when compared to Xuvas. The hair color was different, as was the nose. The eyes, however, were exactly like Xuvas.

“Hi Hadru,” the boy said excitedly, using Darth Xuvas’ birth name.

Xuvas waved to the child whom he’d never actually met face-to-face. “Hey there, kiddo. It looks like we have a secret call.”

“I made a fort,” the boy said as if it were the biggest secret ever. “Look at this, it has blanket walls.”

“Those are the best walls because nobody can see inside.”

“Yeah. I made it. Nobody knows I’m here.”

“That sounds like a stealth operation there.” He settled into his chair a little more deeply, marveling at how strong his biological son’s signature was in the Force. “So how is school going?”

“Yeah. I go everyday.”

“Good, good. So when you’re at school, what do you learn currently?”

“I made rocks dance.”

“You made rocks dance...” Xuvas smiled warmly, causing his eldest son to smile as well. “So you lifted the rocks with the Force?”

“Yeah.”

“That sounds pretty fun. Did you make them dance in circles?”

“Yeah. I put them on the other kids.”

“Good work,” Xuvas chuckled. “Did you put them on your brother and sister?”

“No, that’s not allowed.”

“Very good-“

All of a sudden, the blanket background was pulled away from the child. The boy leapt out of view and ran away outside of the hologram’s field of view while laughing, leaving the angry bust of a purple-haired pureblood woman with a bold, almost edgy hairstyle all too familiar to him.

Languidly wavy lips curled away from pearly teeth angrily as the child’s mother glared at him. Ujoxia, one of two pureblood women he’d sired children with, appeared as surprised as he was.

“I thought I told you not to call here anymore!”

Xuvas raised his hands in defeat. “Right, and I respect that. I’ve never once called your house nor would I. I can’t help it if our kids found my channel’s code and want to at least see what I look like.”

“I can tell my kids whatever they need to know about you, you deadbeat!”

“Hey, relax. I’m not trying to invade your privacy. But if my kids get a hold of a holo, who am I to refuse?”

“You’re a loser who can’t function in polite society, that’s who you are,” she answered furiously, “which is why you’re stuck on the front lines. Until you quit that too.”

Though he stiffened his upper lip, he couldn’t deny that the last comment bothered him. She always had been an expert at figuring out the wrong thing to say at the wrong time. “I respect your household and you for raising those kids. Why can’t you accept a compliment?” he asked.

“I don’t need your compliments, or your interference in my life.”

“I promised you that I wouldn’t interfere; you don’t need to be so salty.”

Her sharp features wriggled as she silently judged him, though she didn’t end the call immediately. Since he’d managed to get her on the line for more than five seconds, he decided to at least tell her what he really thought of her. Now that he was no longer actively working in the Sith Order, he had plenty of time to think about things like that.

“Listen, Ujoxia-“

“I’ve heard enough,” she replied tersely.

“I’m not trying to get into your life, okay?” he said a little more forcefully. She paused and almost seemed interested, as she usually did when he raised his voice, which was one of the things he found so frustrating about her - she’d never listen unless he acted as rudely as she did. “I just wanted to say one thing and then let you go.”

Her little nostrils flared at him, but she still didn’t hang up. “Don’t intrude on my life,” she said, which was the closest she could get to ‘okay.’

“Listen...the kids have told me that they think I’m some sort of general fighting the entire Republic by myself. That’s not true, but it’s nice, and I’m sure they think that because you’re telling them more than just, ‘your dad is a loser’ and stuff like that.”

“You don’t even have a job now that you’re not a lord anymore!” Ujoxia said, almost defensively, as if she didn’t want to admit to speaking positively of him.

“And thanks for not telling them that. Look, I’ve just been doing a lot of thinking since I’ve been here on this planet. I have a different perspective since I’m a bit removed from everything. I was able to realize that the way things have turned out is the best for everybody, but I still need to thank you.

“We’re so different that we can’t be near each other without fighting, so I guess it’s better that I’m not around commenting on your life and butting in with visitations and stuff. And that’s got to be hard...I’m sure your life has changed, even with the droids and the nannies there to help you. I have no doubt that you rose to the challenges that brought because the kids are...the best. I’m really surprised by how well they’re turning out, and that’s because of how you raised them, all without my help.

“Thank you for taking care of them, and thank you for giving them the best life they could ask for. I couldn’t have done it, I realize now, and they’re better off with you - just like you’d planned from the beginning. I just needed time to see it. You’re the best for them...you’re a good mom, and a good person.”

For a while, her nostrils continued to flare at him. Arms folded over her chest, she stared him down like a mother vine cat protecting her cubs from a threat, so much was her fear that he might try to interfere with her life. Second by second, however, he saw her change. Her face strained in order to maintain the fake frown, working hard to put up a front of viewing him as worth no more than an amoeba.

She couldn’t fool him, though, and he felt the cracks in her facade before he saw them. Her image of iron willpower against any attempt at contact between him and the children he’d fathered with her began to tarnish, leaving in its wake a hardworking person who was used to her parenting being taken for granted. Blunt and direct to the point of incidental cruelty, Ujoxia had always been an open book, which also meant that she was unable to hide the effect of the kind words on her. Her lip started to quiver, bringing out the shine to her glassy eyes as the skin of her chin began to dimple. Simple recognition for the parenting she’d done on her own cut through her usual abrasive nature, and tears rolled down her cheeks when she finally realized that he wasn’t joking when he told her she was a good mother.

“FUCK YOU FOR MAKING ME CRY!”

She abruptly ended the holocall, causing Xuvas to laugh in his chair. He’d meant every word he said, but he didn’t expect such a strong reaction from such a vacuous, insensitive creature.

Even though the conversation had been short, he felt a warmth in his heart after having seen one of the children he’d fathered. Leaning back in his chair and forgetting about more serious matters such as continental searches for missing persons, Xuvas snapped his fingers to switch the holoterminal to public channels.

“I feel like relaxing for a standard hour. Search for that Chiss soap opera where the guy finds out that he used to be the other guy but had a consciousness transfer by the guy he thought was his friend.”

“Scanning. Prime result translates as ‘Incremental Identity Iconoclast’ in Standard Basic,” the holoterminal’s speaker said.

“Yeah, I think that was it. Play the most recent episode of that.”

For a few minutes, Xuvas enjoyed the cheesy, overblown drama about a guy with another guy’s face. His temporary escape from having to think seriously was interrupted by a breaking news report which interrupted his replay of the episode.

A Chiss news anchor began to speak, and the holoterminal translated her words into Basic in real time. “This just in: the mystery of the skirmish which led to the death of former Imperial leader Darth Marr as well as a group of heroes has been solved, though in a most unfortunate of ways.”

Xuvas felt a twinge or pain at the reminder of Marr’s death, but he swiftly repressed the memory when the anchor didn’t slow down.

“Reports are still incoming, but there’s news of massive attacks across most major Imperial and Republic worlds. Catastrophic losses at the hands of a third superpower referring to itself as the Eternal Empire are streaming in to our wire services, with claims of bombardment of all capitals both galactic and stellar.”

“Scan for other major news channels as well,” he ordered the holoterminal.

“Scanning. News story repeated. Replay a channel?”

“Yes, replay news from Rhelg’s planetary capital news service.”

The image of a human popped up on the screen. The flustered man was surrounded by images of exploding walkers and orbiting laser cannons. “A cowardly sneak attack has been launched on the Empire by the elusive enemy from last year! Communications from Republic news services have also confirmed...”

Just as Xuvas had started to sneer at the mention of collaboration between Imperial and Republic communications (or anything, for that matter), the news feed cut off and fell into static. When he reached forward and tried to manually swipe through the holographic buttons with his finger, he found that he wasn’t able to open any more channels.

“News feed cut from the source,” the holoterminal said.

“Find another channel; I want to see what’s going on.”

“All channels cut at the sources,” the holoterminal said. “Scanning. Communications locked on a galactic scale.”

“How is that even possible?” he asked, though the device didn’t have the level of problem solving software to allow it to answer.

One of his domestic droids, which had slightly more brains than the terminal or the combat droids, entered his communications room. “My lord, there are strange ships orbiting the planet. They’re visible with the naked eye.”

Putting two and two together wasn’t very difficult, and Xuvas got up and walked out into the shrine compound to see what exactly was happening. The day was still young, but there were objects up in the sky other than clouds.

Floating high in orbit were strange ships not of Imperial design. There was at least half a fleet of them visible from ground level, all of them just floating. Waiting. The Imperial destroyers he’d grown used to seeing orbit Rhelg were all gone, replaced by the foreign ships floating around the planet. He couldn’t see a single familiar ship in the sky, not even patrol starfighters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own Star Wars.


	10. Vacuum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be careful what you wish for.
> 
> End of act two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place at an unmarked period of time between 3636 and 3632 BBY; exact date unknown to characters and author.
> 
> Chapter kept short for stylistic purposes.

No pressure...he couldn’t feel any pressure at all.

Like floating in the vacuum of pace, he felt weightless. The complete and total lack of pressure removed any semblance of up and down. Removed from any anchor, any point of reference, he laid in his bed and stared at the ceiling, too numb and lightheaded to even sit up.

All the bedroom was littered in clothes. Both dirty laundry and clean clothes which he’d dumped on the floor were strewn about, alongside partially eaten food and refuse his droids couldn’t pick up because he hadn’t given verbal permission for them to enter the room.

He couldn’t even remember how long ago he’d stopped checking the calendar and even the clock. Marking the passage of time had become too mind-numbing. Pain, he could have dealt with...he would have welcomed it. At least pain would have told him he was still alive. He couldn’t feel anything.

The entire galaxy was lost, yet he couldn’t find it within himself to sympathize. Perhaps it was fitting that things had turned out this way...a befitting punishment for the Empire’s overtures to the Republic. Overtures he’d participated in. Overtures for which he shared in the sin.

Communications were still cut. There was no way for Xuvas to even access news from beyond the orbit of the planet’s moon, and planetary channels were so heavily censored that watching them was a waste of time.

He couldn’t contact his friends. He couldn’t contact his siblings. He couldn’t contact his children. Whoever had taken over the galaxy had blockaded significant planets to limit communication, leaving Rhelg in a bubble...just like so many other worlds.

Was it deserved? Had they brought this onto themselves with their surrender of the passion to spread the dark side of the Force? Had he brought this onto himself with his immature retreat from the universe?

Long ago had he stopped trying to understand what had happened. He’d stopped trying to reach out. He’d stopped preparing for a hoped return to the Empire. He was stranded, alone on a peninsula with no way to call to the outside and not enough spare parts for his speeder to risk riding to the nearest town...if it hadn’t been destroyed.

It had been months...years since he’d interacted with another sentient being. The isolation had done more than humble him; it sapped him of all will to get out of bed in the morning. The importance of action and interaction in Sith philosophy had become clear to him too late; the solitude had become a torturous exile that made him feel so low that he wondered if the floor would collapse beneath his bed and leave him to fall down to the ground floor. The pulling sensation still didn’t ground him, and he continued to float in his bed with no sense of up or down.

He wondered how many of the people he’d cared about were still alive. He wondered if he’d ever know for sure.

Alone and drained of all feeling, he lacked the strength to just get up and check if it were day or night outside. Without strength, he lacked the power to even take a shower and order his droids to clean the increasingly dusty living quarters. Without power, he lacked even the simple victory of greeting another day happy to still be alive. Without victory, he was in chains.

Numb, passionless, like the Jedi he once hated so much. Now he didn’t feel anything, save for a kernel of regret.

The numbness was killing him and he didn’t care...but he did regret the choices he’d made: quitting the Order, withdrawing from society, abandoning his leaders, exiling himself far from everything...letting go of his passion.

But he still had regret. He could still feel that. He clung to it, for it was the only sign that he was still alive. He was still alive and he still felt something. It was all he hadn’t thrown away.


	11. Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can’t hide from responsibility forever.
> 
> Part one of act three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place in 3631 BBY.

Years passed. Half a decade, perhaps. Time had a funny way of losing its meaning once he’d lost the need to track it.

Out on the flat plains of Rhelg’s warmest zone, the lone Sith trekked back to his shrine with a fresh kill from a hunting trip. His fabrication droid could have manufactured nutritious food from requisite materials, but he wanted the taste of another living thing. He could have lifted the large, horned ungulate with the Force, but he wanted his body to feel the strain of carrying a weight other than a barbell. As much as he could, he wanted to feel alive. That motivation to crawl out of a hole he’d dug is all that fulfilled such a desire.

Over the course of an hour, he walked back to the compound he’d made his home. The silence of the plains had its own noise to it, and he’d trained his mind to feel the natural rhythm all around him. As much as he preferred being in space, staying in touch with the natural world around him had helped him to find his passion again. By the time he’d reached his home, he could feel a comfortable simmering of energy inside him, a reconnection to the dark side in taking the like of another being to prolong his own. He felt happy.

After handing over the game animal’s corpse to the fabricator droid, he hung up the blaster rifle he’d trained himself to use on the weapon rack within the open-air compound. “Skin it and provide enough meat for my dinner; store the rest. And preserve whatever isn’t edible.”

The fabricator droid, which wasn’t exactly designed for the job, painstakingly went to work on the carcass. “Give meat to kitchen droid?” the fabricator beeped at him. He nodded to it and went inside, already hungry and knowing how long non-synthetic food took to prepare.

Inside the neatly organized living quarters, he showered and changed his clothes. He hadn’t spoken to another sentient in months, and even then it had only been via holocall. Regardless of that, he found the routine of changing daily to make him feel energized, almost whole again. It had been a long time since he’d pulled himself up out of the lowest point he’d been at, emotionally, and he found that self-discipline kept him grounded.

Once he’d come back downstairs, he went to his datapad and flipped through his notifications for the first time in days. An internal conflict of sorts had started on Zakuul or whatever the new superpower called itself, resulting in less censorship now that the Eternal something or other’s grip on galactic communications had slipped. The strange ships had even stopped orbiting Rhelg, as well as other planets in Sith Space, and intergalactic traffic had started to resume.

Taking a seat, he flipped past the latest junk he didn’t care about. To a select few, his whereabouts had become known, and messages from those among his former colleagues who’d survived were frequent. Teaching positions were most prominent, as well as simple requests for Force-sensitive guards on Imperial worlds. He didn’t even know if he were technically allowed to reclaim the title of lord once more since he’d willingly quit an organization that didn’t normally recognize resignation, and he deleted the messages under the assumption that they were mass communications sent to thousands at a time.

For nostalgia, he scrolled through the older notifications he had. No matter how far away he was, seeing what had happened over the past few years brought a smile to his face.

His children, as well as their mothers (and their stepfathers though he didn’t care to hear about them much), had survived the bombardment of Dromund Kaas by the Zakuul republic or federation or whatever it was called. His sister had survived the onslaught albeit with cybernetic implants in some of her vital systems after injuries sustained. His brother, to his chagrin, had picked a side in the infighting among members of the now defunct Dark Council after the Imperial defeat and gotten killed in a grenade explosion. That news had stung, but he truly believed his brother had brought an early death by greed - a weakness rather than a strength.

The few friends he’d had weren’t all as lucky. Jan and Fran, the two Duro servants he’d treated like family, had died during the initial bombardment. They’d served loyally, lived better than what former slaves could normally expect in Kaas City, and had reportedly died in each other’s arms. The parallel news that all of his property on the planet had been destroyed didn’t particularly bother him in comparison to the news about the little Duros who’d helped to raise him being lost. He’d gone as far as to hold a lonesome funeral in absentia for them once he’d finished refurbishing his shrine, reading proper Sith rights for them.

Orcina, his former pilot, had not only survived but also settled down. She’d met a stable fellow working in a specialist industry called ‘repair droid repairs’ or close to it. The two of them had even had children, and Orcina shared pictures frequently. Pjiega had taken a room in Orcina’s apartment after his property on the planet had been destroyed. Orcina had even tried to teach the former slave to read and write, with mixed results. Pjiega was quite proud of her progress and would attempt to write to him weekly, though her grammar was terrible, she typed in all caps, and she seemed to think that commas were exclamation marks. He still entertained whatever weird messages she sent him about the odd jobs she’d been working, people she didn’t like, and the holodramas she’d become addicted to.

Darth Aruk, his former master at the Sphere of Philosophy, had disappeared alongside the Sphere. The entire Dark Council has either killed each other or gone into hiding save Darth Imperious, who’d at least gone out like a boss (though the Force hinted that the inquisitor might be alive...who knows). Lord Scourge, one of the few people truly deserving of respect, had disappeared into legend by entering Wild Space. Truly, very little of the Imperial power structure remained.

He closed his datapad, having reread enough old messages for a day. As the day wore on, he felt his hunger grow, especially since he could smell the kitchen droid preparing a meal the old fashioned way with protein from an animal and vegetables grown from seeds. Perhaps he could go into the shrine and meditate for a while; doing so daily had been part of his process of climbing out of the aforementioned hole he’d previously dug. By then, his food should be ready-

“My lord, sensors have detected an approaching starship,” said one of his combat droids from the doorway.

He paused. Maybe he’d heard wrong, or the droid was experiencing problems. Nobody had visited him in years, not even his friends, and they always called him before coming anyway. “Double check,” he ordered his medical probe droid in the corner, which ironically had pretty good orbital sensors despite not needing them for healthcare.

“Confirmed,” the probe beeped. “Imperial destroyer in orbit; three starfighters escorting assault shuttle to our location.”

Humming his admission to the droids, he stroked his chin spikes and wondered. He owned an assault shuttle he’d given to Orcina for personal use, but she’d rigged it so he’d receive an alert on his datapad whenever it entered the Rhelg System.

He wondered...had a current Sith Lord or aspiring naval captain, incensed that he’d quit the Sith Order, come to issue an arrest warrant? He’d had his fair share of challengers during his years of isolation. Over the years, half a dozen different Jedi and Republic commandos had hunted him down, at various times, to exact revenge (though they termed it ‘justice’) for their colleagues whom he’d slain; all had ended up slain themselves. A fellow Sith, some weirdo named Jessica Wilsaam or Jennifer or a name close to that, had arrived, challenged him to a duel, lost badly, and strangely thanked him as she left. And then there were the Mandalorians...he’d killed at least fifteen separate individuals, most of them having learned of the anti-Mandalorian prejudice he’d held during his service. Even with the lack of sentient contact, he’d still experienced conflict during his self-imposed exile.

Taking no chances, he picked up a practice lightsaber and helmet and walked outside, flanked by his outdated but loyal combat droids. Sure enough, he could see a shuttle descending toward his compound, though no starfighters were to be found. The ship came to a stop on the grass in front of his compound, taking its time as if there were no fear of reprisal from him. He left the practice saber slung over his back as a sign that he wasn’t expecting a fight, but he was still wary.

After a certain amount of troop movements inside, the hatch to the shuttle opened, revealing two Imperial marines who stepped outside and saluted him as if they knew him. Confused, he refused to return the gesture and wondered who would use military vehicles to track him down. Marines wouldn’t have been posted for the personal run of a former colleague making a private visit, yet he’d long ago cut ties with the Empire. The entire setup seemed odd.

Out of the shuttle came the guest of honor. Walking slowly and confidently was a vaguely familiar human woman, obviously Sith from her heavy presence in the Force but dressed modestly and without pomp or particularly high-class clothing. She seemed rather humble for their kind, a rare trait he’d learned to admire, and he struggled to remember who she was and how he’d met her as she approached him without fear.

Suddenly, it clicked. “Darth Acina?” he asked rhetorically. He bowed, but she didn’t return the gesture. Her behavior confounded him; she wasn’t the least bit hostile, yet her refusal to bow back to him could have been taken as an insult between peers. Perhaps he’d been regarded as a pariah due to his withdrawal from the Order, he wondered. “This is...unexpected, though I’m happy to see you. It’s been a decade at least.”

Although she appeared happy to be visiting him, her continued refusal to bow conflicted with what he felt in her, and her warm yet understated smile mystified him. “Only eight years, by my count. We chatted briefly when you appeared at the Dark Council for a routine meeting.”

“Yes, yes, I remember.” He turned and waved for his combat droids to return to their posts outside of his compound. If she’d been hostile, she wouldn’t have cared if the droids were present or not anyway. “You’ve come a long way, I’m assuming. That is, if you’re coming from Korriban. My home is modest, but you’re free to it if you intend to stay.”

One of the marines appeared offended by his words, though the pureblood had no idea why. Acina didn’t seem to mind. “I’m glad to hear that. I came with the intent to stay for a period - though from Dromund Kaas, mind you.”

“I have a meal cooking the old fashioned way; there should be enough.” He paused and considered what she’d said. “Last I remember, you’d been promoted to the Sphere of Technology on Korriban...have you been promoted to a similar position on Dromund Kaas?” he asked sincerely.

Both marines gasped as if he’d committed a grave offense. They were actually on thin ice to gape at a Sith in such a manner, and he started to suspect that things weren’t as they seemed.

Acina, for her part, laughed deeply, not in a mocking sense so much as like a focused workaholic who hadn’t had the opportunity to laugh in too long. She hadn’t changed much since the last time they’d encountered one another. At least, that’s what he thought.

Waving for the marines to wait by the shuttle, she started walking toward the compound without answering directly and took him by the arm. “Let’s have a seat and talk for a little while...I think there’s a great deal of news you’ve missed out here.”


	12. An Unexpected Caller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being needed also means being called to account.
> 
> Part two of act three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place in 3631 BBY, following the previous chapter by an hour or so.

“I am so sorry, Acina.”

“Oh, stop. I understand your situation in such a remote location.”

“Still, I’m sorry. That was an atrocious greeting in light of your status.”

“Flattery, though much appreciated, will get you nowhere.”

“It’s not flattery. As much as I like you personally, it’s not about you. It’s about the throne.”

“A commendable position.”

The two of them continued eating at the modest, two-person dinner table actually made of wood. As in, from a tree. The sight of Acina sharing a meal with him at such a quaint piece of furniture based on ancient era designs felt wrong, though in a funny way. His living quarters, which once seemed neat and well-organized, suddenly seemed drab and austere given his company.

Thankfully, she didn’t seem to mind. She ate her home-cooked meal of authentic, natural food in silence and finished every bit of the stew he’d ordered from his kitchen droid. In spite of the amount of time that had passed, as well as the fact that they’d only known each other professionally, he still felt as though he’d gauged her personality fairly well back when she’d been a mere apprentice. To see her sharing food with him, so down to ground level and free of arrogance, gave him hope for his former faction.

Once he’d finished eating, he slid his bowl to the waiting droid and leaned back in his chair. “You know, the first time we met, I told you that I hoped you’d achieve the rank you deserve,” he told her as she finished her stew.

“I’ll never forget; it was just before you helped win Alderaan for the Empire,” she said in between bites.

“Yes. And I honestly believe that this is the result of your foresight. The Empire will prosper under you.”

“Your words are now, as they were then, surprising in their honesty. I wish the Sith Order had retained more members who could be up front with each other, and save their aggression for the enemy, when we needed it the most.”

He nodded and paused so she could finish more of her food. There was so much he wanted to say, but he’d already waited years to have contact with a non-hostile target. He patiently waited a few minutes more, fighting to avoid tapping his foot nervously.

“So this Eternal Alliance, I guess it’s called...they view themselves as being a third superpower in the galaxy?”

Acina nodded and laid her spoon in the bowl for a moment. “Currently, they outpace us as well as the Republic, but they can’t conquer us without the aid of the Republic. The lack of trust has produced a new kind of stalemate.”

“I’m not convinced.”

“The Alliance was built on the ruins of Zakuul, which initially defeated both factions. That’s what caused your isolation here, for example, as well as the total collapse of leadership on both sides.”

“I’m still not convinced.”

Amusement crept into her smile, and she leaned back in her chair like he did. “Very well. Let’s hear your assessment. You’re behind the times and uninformed, to say the least, but perhaps you have the advantage of an objective, uninvolved observation.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” he teased, nearly getting the usually stoic human to laugh a second time. “This is how I see it. For over a millennium, we’ve dealt with the curse of the Republic; they’ve proven to be worthy adversaries, though I loathe to admit it. I hate them with every ounce of my soul, I spite them and spit on them, but they’ve survived for a long time. They can continue causing problems for a long time.”

“The Alliance has inherited the power which ended the high councils of the Jedi and Sith Orders, as well as Republic and Empire leadership,” she said.

“Yes, a few years ago. They challenge us just like the Hutt cartels once did. Just as the Mandalorians once challenged the galaxy. Challenges come and go, but in the timeline of history, these few years are a meaningless blip on the radar. A few years ago nobody had ever heard of Zakuul, and a few years from now, they may be unheard of once more. In my view, neither the Alliance nor what they replaced has proven to have any true staying power. The real threat is as it has been for a thousand years: the Repubic.”

Acina listened to him and closed her eyes, pondering his nonchalance about the Alliance for a moment. The two of them shared a moment of silence, and a comfortable one at that. She was elegant in her behavior, yet she didn’t carry the air of the leader of half the galaxy.

Unaware of how he observed her reactions, she opened her eyes and looked at him much as she had when they were equals, even though the current reality was different.

“That’s an interesting perspective. There may be something to that. In fact, I wish more of our former colleagues felt the same way...we’ve lost some of them to the Alliance and this commander of theirs.”

He hummed his agreement. “I’m surprised by some of the names you mentioned. Perhaps this is a bit hypocritical of me to say given my resignation, but I’m particularly bothered that Beniko joined them. I find myself questioning her achievements in Imperial intelligence; I wonder if any of it was sincere to the Empire.”

Though Acina continued smiling politely, there was a tangible decrease in her smile’s brightness. “It is a little hypocritical of you, actually, but your statement is still true. She may defend her actions as based on a view to the wider galaxy, but she could have devoted those energies to the Empire instead.” Acina paused again, looking him directly in the eye. She continued to stare at him for a few moments, making him distinctly uncomfortable.

Without aggression, she exhaled deeply as she stared at him, and he began to realize that the time for the difficult part of her visit - and perhaps the main point of it - had arrived.

“Darth Xuvas,” she sighed, letting him hear his own name out loud for the first time in a long while. “Why did you leave us?” she asked, not so much accusatory as curious. “And why didn’t you come back?”

He shifted awkwardly in his seat. He knew the answer very well, but he’d never expected to be put on the spot like that, especially by company of such caliber.

“I respect you and your time deeply,” he said in a weak attempt to stall, though he was sure she could see right through it. “You lead many loyal citizens, and you’ve left what I assume is a large volume of work to visit just one.”

She didn’t stop smiling, and he felt no anger from her in the Force, but her tone of voice reminded him that she was the same stickler for rules that she’d always been. “I care for the safety and well-being of thirty trillion citizens whose lives are a responsibility I don’t take lightly,” she replied in a low volume that belied her seriousness. “And, yes, visiting you all the way on Rhelg requires me to postpone a considerable amount of work.

“Respect my time as well as the time of our people and answer my question,” she said, shining a spotlight on him brighter than Korriban’s sun.

Her proverbial kick to his behind worked, but he still struggled to find the right words. “What can I tell you that you haven’t figured out on your own, Acina?” he asked in an almost fatigued voice. “I was publicly humiliated by a man I loved like a father, or more than my own father, for purposes he failed to explain to me. I was too immature for my pride to recover easily, and I made a foolish long-term decision in haste.”

Leaning forward on the table, he folded his hands and shrugged at her in an attempt to apologize. “I can’t say that I would have stayed even if I’d known what was coming. I wasn’t in a good place, emotionally, and I was five years younger than I am today. I won’t insult your intelligence with claims otherwise. All I can say in my defense is that nobody in this galaxy can rightfully question my love for our people, my devotion to the path of my ancestors, and my respect for the throne. My regret has come too late, but my ego had been so damaged that I couldn’t clearly read my dreams and visions of the future. I was blind, or perhaps I blinded myself, and I suffered for my choice to abandon what I loved every day that I’ve been here.”

Still leaning back, she was quicker to answer once he’d made his confession. “The Force told me of your honesty if I could get you alone, and I feel it in you now. I’m glad that you’re able to admit your error, out loud.” She looked at him more closely and, though there was no antagonism in her at all, she became a little more direct. “That was an admission of guilt, correct?”

“Yes,” he said, unable to play games with a fellow Sith of such power. “What I did was wrong.”

“Good. Now that I’ve brought you up to speed, and we’re speaking openly, I need to grant you an equal level of honesty.” She nudged her bowl away but wouldn’t let the droid take it just yet. “Everything you’ve said about the Eternal Alliance is what I’ve prayed to be true. We’re struggling to rebuild, however. I’ve firmly secured our government and industry under a central control, and I’ve summarily executed any Sith in whom I detected a proclivity for continued betrayal, infighting, or intrigue. Non-Force sensitive military officers have been placed in control of most government bodies, I started special committees for whistleblowing against backstabbing and nepotism among Sith, and I’ve locked up suspected sympathizers with the Alliance without trial.”

He smiled warmly and relaxed a little. “I have no reason nor desire to flatter you, but you truly are the best person for this position,” he said as she listed off the authoritarian measures she’d taken.

Despite his compliment, her expression and voice almost became stern. “Then come back to us, Xuvas. Come back to the Empire. I have enough support on our home worlds to handle internal problems, but I need people I can trust to help me solve external problems.”

Pinching himself to be sure he wasn’t hallucinating, he felt flattered himself, if humbled. “I don’t know, Acina...I feel like it’s too late for that now. My resignation robbed the Empire if needed support at a critical moment, and I’ve spent years out of active duty. There are others who can be those pillars of support you can rely on. I...I’m not worthy.”

“You’re not the judge of that nor have I ordered you to be,” she said, terse yet polite in a balance only she could pull off. “If you respect my time and my judgment, then listen to the latter. I know you, I know the work you did, and I know why the Force led me to leave my work temporarily and come here. You *terrified* the Republic when you were in active service. You may not have liked being compared to the monsters who followed Dark Council members or to ‘hell on a leash,’ but that’s exactly what our enemies were so afraid of.

“Our numbers are increasing, but we need all the support we can get. Perhaps this Alliance won’t last, as you say, but we can only ensure our survival against them and the Republic with strong support from people who truly understand the Sith Code and view their power as more than just a tool to Force choke our own officers or compete with fellow Sith.”

Almost blushing from her indirect praise, he hesitated to speak and inadvertently pushed her to do so. “Look, you admitted that you were wrong. What more could make you hesitate? If you suffered from your resignation so much, then isn’t this the opportunity you fantasized about all these years?”

“It is.”

“Then you must make the choice to return to us. You can be a part of the reconstructed system, without the pettiness and petulance of the old Order. You can be the instrument of Imperial domination again, if you but atone for your previous exit.”

Were they communicating in written form, or in a setting where she wasn’t taking time out of her schedule, he might have been able to consider the offer more carefully. Then again, he was a Sith, no matter how long he’d been gone for; feelings were more important than reason.

“I would very much like to choose that,” he said humbly.

To his surprise, she shook her head, but not in rejection. “Not like that,” she replied while remaining on that razor’s edge between softness and sternness. “I came here out of respect for the work you’ve done and the ideals you hold, and because I trust you. However, the fact remains that you left us wrongly by your own confession. As much as I want to have you back in the fold, and as much as you assent to it, the reality is that your fealty to the throne must be tested.”

“I will gladly kneel to you as you sit in the Imperial Citadel.”

“You don’t have a choice if you still call yourself Sith, and that was already assumed,” she replied without hesitation. “What I refer to is quite different from the oath all members now swear to me. You left us, Xuvas, and there is to be a reckoning for that. You must beg forgiveness for leaving.”

At that, he froze. Unable to react, he realized that he hopes for a random visit to usher him back into Imperial life conveniently and painlessly truly was a fantasy and nothing more. “I see,” he mumbled demurely as the first traces of regret settled into his mind. She seemed to feel it and acted swiftly.

“I told you how much I respect you. Because of that respect for you and the image you carry, I won’t humiliate you; to do so would be a betrayal of my trust as your ruler and your former peer. It would violate the air of devotion I’ve worked to cultivate among Sith. I won’t make the same mistake that hurt you before.”

“So what are you demanding of me?” he asked cautiously.

“To beg for forgiveness in private. Nobody will know - not even the marines outside. This is to remain between you and I, a personal secret that seals the bond of trust between the knight and her sword. We can take this to our graves, if you prefer, for the sake of you saving face.

“But make no mistake: this is a requirement for you if you’re sincere in your wish to fight for the Empire again. If I desired it so, I could compel you to register your plea in public as a form of education. Only my benevolence has saved you from that, and it’s not a gift to be taken for granted.”

She didn’t elaborate, and when she continued to stare at him without blinking, he realized that her instructions weren’t to be questioned. With feet full of lead, he got up from his chair and stood next to his little dining table. Whether the impediment was resentment, testosterone, or simple shyness, he found his muscles stiff as he forced himself to kneel before her in his plain living quarters, even when all logic dictated that he should have been rushing to accept her offer before she rescinded.

Head bowed and one knee on the floor, he let the words tumble from his mouth.

“I beg for your forgiveness for my transgression. Prohibit me not for my previous abandonment.”

A few seconds of silence followed, and he wondered if he hadn’t spoken loudly enough. He certainly did find it difficult to ask for forgiveness even when he’d admitted he’d done wrong, but he didn’t think that difficulty had affected his voice. The sound of her spoon stirring in her bowl informed him that she’d heard loud and clear.

As if trying to drive the point home, she ate another bite of the stew, leaving him to stare at her shoes while he waited. A belated sympathy for how Khem Val must have felt with Darth Imperious struck him, if momentarily. Once she felt that her point had been made, she looked down at him again.

“All is forgiven, Darth Xuvas. Ensure that the Empire is not denied your strength a second time.”

They both stood up at the same time and moved away from the table so the kitchen droid could clean up after them. The previous sternness was gone from her demeanor all of a sudden, and the normal - albeit unequal - relationship existed once more.

“Now, I didn’t come all this way for unnecessary delays. Gather up only whichever belongings can’t be replicated at the Imperial Citadel and bring them outside; the marines have a shipping container you can use. I trust that your old gear is here, yes?”

A mild shock ran up and down his spine. “Wait...we’re going today?”

“We’re going right now. As in, now-now.” She swept her hands across the expanse of his beige, clay-colored living quarters which lacked all but the base necessities of a home. “What, do you have responsibilities or loose ends tying you down to this place?”

Her strikingly personal comment caught him off guard. “Well, I mean, there are some issues, and...” Like she had during dinner, she nearly laughed, her lips pursing tightly as if she were working hard to suppress the urge for his sake. “No, I suppose not. The droids have no need for conversation or contact. I can instruct them to simply defend the shrine from all trespassers and wait for my return one day.”

“Serve us well and you will be granted vacations, galactic politics permitting.” She stepped over to the door and turned back to him. “Fifteen standard minutes should be enough, yes? Do bring that heavy armor you used to wear, the suit we repaired for you once at the Arcanum. There are combat-ready walkers with plating that can’t withstand impact like your armor. You’ll need it.”

“You have my thanks, my Empress,” he replied, smirking at the way she tried to hide a smile when he addressed her by her formal title. “Yes, my old gear is all here. I’ll instruct the droids and, if you permit, issue a farewell prayer in the shrine before we return to Dromund Kaas.”

One foot already out the door, she stopped herself short. “Oh, we’re not going straight there. I’ll be going there, but you’re going to Korriban first.”

“Hmm, this sounds interesting. Whatever for?”

“Psychological tests, first of all; you’ve been living alone for a few years and could probably use a good evaluation,” she said calmly, though he could sense that she was trying to poke at him a bit. “You also need to prepare for your return in a proper fashion. Re-education as well as teaching are in order before we can get you ready for full combat on the front lines.”

She finally stepped outside, calling back to him as she left. “Fifteen minutes, understand? The Empire has waited long enough...don’t make us wait any more,” she said just before the sound of her footsteps trailed off.


	13. Re-education

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A talented truant attempts to shake off the rust.
> 
> Part three of act three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place in 3631 BBY, following the previous chapter by a number of days.

Deja vu didn’t quite describe the feeling Xuvas had when he arrived on Korriban. A full seventeen standard years prior, he’d arrived on the same shuttle route at the age of seventeen years - the halfway point in his thirty-four years of life. The nostalgia was overwhelming, and as he was shown to his temporary suite by a protocol droid, he found himself trying to remember exactly what he was thinking and feeling when he passed various landmarks and other places he remembered.

For the first few days, he deferred all calls and remained in his suite at the prestigious housing unit for the dark honor guards despite being an outsider to them. Rhelg and Korriban had slightly different stars, different orbits, different day-night cycles, and different rhythms to their unique pulses of the dark side. Readjusting to the new sleep schedule challenged him after years spent with no change, and all that finally roused him from his stupor was the insistent holocalls by an oddly familiar voice that added to his sense of nostalgia.

Forcing himself to wash up, eat, and make himself look presentable, he merely acknowledged the call with a ping and left to a balcony in an academy building exclusive for instructors per the location of the caller. The balcony was empty but overlooked a group of fresh acolytes practicing their poorly executed drills with tech staffs, and he waited until whoever had been searching for him realized he was already waiting there.

“The instructions from the new education minister has proven true,” said a voice he remembered hearing seventeen years prior, almost to the day. He turned around to regard the speaker as she joined him at the balcony and watched.

“Assistant Overseer Loun...this really is pleasant. Ironic, but pleasant.”

“That’s Overseer Loun, thank you very much,” his fellow pureblood said as she leaned on the railing. She didn’t seem to be in a hurry, and the fact that she stood next to him after having once taught him reminded him of how far he’d come.

“That used to be me down there,” he chuckled as they observed acolytes dropping their staffs or hitting themselves by accident.

“I went through my turn hitting myself in the face with a staff, too. That’s the learning process.”

For a Sith warrior who’d seen her share of battlefields, Loun exerted a relaxing aura, and a measure of time passed before she spoke again. “It’s time to get you started. I’m told that the Empress has reassigned you to her personal staff. We’ll need to get you the support you need within the next few weeks.”

“Is it really weeks?” he asked incredulously.

“Those are my orders, yes.”

“I had no shortage of challengers during my sabbatical...do you really think I’ll require that much retraining in combat technique?”

“No, I don’t; muscle memory will help you there. My task is to help you prepare your own personnel, teach you about the new structure the Empress has mandated for the Sith, and being you up to speed on the latest tactics of our enemies. That’s not a small amount of work to be done.”

Xuvas turned to look at her, though she was still focused on the acolytes below. “I wasn’t aware that I’ll be granted my own personnel anymore. An astromech droid would honestly be enough.”

“You haven’t been granted your own ship, so that would be a bit useless,” she replied. She didn’t seem to notice his mild yet still unfounded disappointment, thankfully. “In order to prevent diva behavior, the Empress has scaled back on the volume of services which Sith may demand from enlisted military personnel; gone are the days of Force-sensitives commandeering naval vessels and army operations for their own personal tasks. In light of that, every Sith Lord is required to maintain a staff of followers capable of performing routine work, logistical work, the kinds of tasks an ensign might have performed in the days when we could grab anyone in a uniform and pull them away from their own assigned duties. These tasks are our own responsibility now.”

“These are the sort of changes that will help our Empire to survive.”

“Indeed, they’re past due. Respect these rules and you can stand among the ranks of the successful; violation of them results in intentionally disproportionate punishments as a warning to others. Additionally, the loss of qualified Sith during the unfortunate events has increased the urgency of the lord-apprentice system. Whereas newly ascended lords could adopt their first apprentice, they’re now obligated to take two at a time in order to ensure our youth receive mentorship. For more experienced lords, a third and fourth apprentice will be added whether they want more or not, and so forth.”

“So what’s my current standing?”

“You passed your psychological and ideological evaluations with flying colors, but you’ve still been out of active service to the Empire for nearly seven years. You’ll be counted as a newly ascended lord for now, with the consolation that your previous experience is recognized by the Empress in terms of the missions she has planned for you.”

“That recognition won’t be taken for granted.” He stood up straight and stepped back from the balcony. “You left me alone to adjust for the first few days after my arrival. I assume that we’re to begin preparation now?”

“Yes, its an advantageous time to begin. I do believe the first member of your personnel arrived this morning and is waiting near the quarters for troopers and other non-Force sensitives.”

Though he hadn’t noticed it before, Xuvas paused and reached out into the sea of life energy on the planet. To do so was futile if he’d been guessing, but the very familiar presence of the companion he’d spent the longest amount of time with. “Pjiega is here,” he said when he’d realized his retainer had arrived, though he had no idea where on the planet she could be.

“I contacted her through your sister and then your former pilot, both of whom are unfortunately out of military life. Your bodyguard or whatever she calls herself jumped at the chance to fight again.”

“So you’ve contacted her yourself...can you get her on holo? If she’s here, then I think I know a quick way to fill in my personal staff.”

Finally rising from the railing as well, Loun took out a holodisc and pulled up an image of recent calls. “Yes, I spoke to her earlier,” she said while flipping through the private channels. “How do you plan on enlisting troops with a representative who’s an alien, if I may ask?”

Xuvas bristled at the pejorative but otherwise didn’t react. “It’s simple: I don’t plan on enlisting humans-“

“Master!” yelled the image of Pjiega as soon as the channel was open. “They told me we get to kill people again!”

Loun stifled a laugh, though the tattooed retainer didn’t notice. “Yes, we will kill many again,” Xuvas replied. “And I’m glad to see you after so long. We’ll try to meet in person this evening, okay?”

Ever focused on base needs, Pjiega started to ramble about eating. “There’s good food here. They let me stay where the humans sleep, and the food is free. I also saw some weird flying things outside, and I want to taste one of them.”

“Yes, we’ll have time for all of that. But listen, I have your first mission now that we’re building a new team. I want you to take a taxi to the eastern slave pens.”

“Eastern slave pens. Got it.”

“Once there, I need you to find more members of your species. Find non-Force sensitive individuals who know how to shoot and fight. From those, find the ones who know how to use basic operating systems. If they can read then that’s a bonus, but not necessary since I have you.”

To Loun’s curiosity, Pjiega beamed quaintly at the recognition of her basic literacy. “Understood. How many do you need, master?” his retainer asked.

“No more than what you think you can control at a single time. We’re not hiring an entire army, nor is my budget particularly vast.”

She bowed to him excitedly. “I won’t waste time, master!” Pjiega said before her image disappeared.

Loun put her holodisc away and gave him an odd look. “Interesting manpower strategy. A measure of explanation may be in order, though. Why only aliens?”

“An excellent question. Notice that I was precise in which species I prefer to draw personnel from; I wouldn’t settle, in my position, for a random assortment from across the galaxy, though I do believe that all species, sentient and other, would benefit from Imperial suzerainty.”

“You digress. I’d like to know what your justification for your own staffing policy is,” Loun asked while beginning to walk from the balcony to the exit of the instructors’ building. He followed her, assuming that she had more to show him at the academy after so much time spent away.

“I suppose I have. Anyway, notice that I requested that she only recruit members of her own species.”

“Your bodyguard seems capable but unworthy of policies shaped to accommodate her.”

“Thus my policy has nothing to do with any individual, Overseer. It’s about her species specifically. Her species, the state of the Empire, and my experience as a propagandist. Our population lags behind that of the Republic, as you know. This is due to an exclusivity policy which, in and of itself, is a strong policy.”

“Your file notes that you were once a member of a subversive abolitionist movement, Xuvas. Is this not a contradiction?”

“I don’t believe so. I can support the abolition of slavery while still upholding the existence of multiple classes of Imperial citizens as well as colonized planets where subjects don’t enjoy the benefits of citizenship, but aren’t held in bondage either.”

“Of all the species in the galaxy, then, why would you favor creatures as primitive and uncivilized as the Rattataki?” Loun asked rather pointedly.

“Loyalty, Overseer. The primary criteria is loyalty. If we based citizenship solely on power and evolution, we’d allow Miraluka into the Empire due to their Force-sensitivity, which is similar to ours. That would be unthinkable, of course, because that species has historically been an enemy to us, which returns us to the fundamental determiner: loyalty.”

“After us, the humans have proven their loyalty. They suffered, as did we, for the sake of the Empire. Historically speaking, all others have reacted to our superiority with hostility save the Chiss. And they - the Chiss - are already awarded a position similar to second class citizenship.”

“As they should be, Overseer. But I’d posit that hostility and loyalty must be viewed in perspective. Take, for example, the Twi’leks: they may be found in Hutt, Imperial, and Republic Space in varying numbers. There are individuals who’ve risen among our ranks - I even brought one to the dark side, Yadira Ban, before she fell here alongside Atroxa - but that’s on an individual basis. As a whole, their species has demonstrated loyalty only to whoever benefits them the most.”

“Is this not the nature of most beings?” she asked while leading him across the rocky landscape outside to a sort of training center.

“Most, perhaps, which is why I believe in colonization even while opposing slavery. Not all species are equal, though, and we have working examples. I will always defend the Chevin as I do the Chiss because the former may be found among the Hutt cartels as they are with us, but they’re next to nonexistent in the Republic. An individual Chevin is either ours or can be made ours.”

“Yet there are numerous Rattataki among the cartels, as well as the criminal underworld, even working against the interests of the Empire.”

“But it doesn’t have to be that way. Look at them: I captured the only Rattataki I know of who joined the Republic when I helped conquer Kuat Drive Yards. I’ve not heard of a single other individual who joined them. They’re an entire species given to violence and conquest, far too rambunctious for the Republic to accept. Despite their status as slaves, despite the attempt by some extremist army officers on Belsavis to exterminate Rattataki there, there are still more of their species serving the Empire than there are serving the Hutt cartels or merely themselves combined. Imagine if they were all granted an upgrade to legal status en masse without action required on their part...it would be a propaganda victory that causes every achievement I earned under the now defunct Sphere of Philosophy to pale in comparison! We’d have hundreds of billions of new citizens across the galaxy, and ones whose proportion of civilians would be very small.”

Loun didn’t seem entirely convinced, but she hesitated before she spoke. “That is...an interesting proposition, but a risky one. I remember reading that you worked hard to free that Cathar prince on Belsavis as well, and you even negotiated for him to be supplied with weapons and clandestine funding, yet I doubt you would reasonably argue for his people to be granted a status commensurate with the Chiss.”

“No, not now, as much as I wish for that. The Cathar suffered like the humans did, survived like the humans did, and their species bears a fury that would make them excellent soldiers of the dark side. It is most unfortunate that much of their planet has sided with the Republic. But that brings me back to the fundamental point: it’s about loyalty, not whoever I tried to convert in the past. The Rattataki don’t need conversion or persuasion, and by maintaining a publicly visible staff which is entirely of their species, I can send a message to our kind as well as humans that the Rattataki have a place in the Empire.”

Red eyes shined thoughtfully, and Loun’s skepticism started to melt away. Just when he thought he’d changed her mind, her holodisc beeped. When she pulled it out, they were treated to an unwelcome image of white flesh covered in black tattoos.

“I did it, master!” Pjiega said while stepping aside to reveal nine more of her kind, women and men, wearing nothing except for slave collars and their skivvies.

Loun couldn’t stop herself from laughing, and Xuvas did a double take when he realized that they were in public at the slave pens.

“Pjiega, why are they in their underwear!”

Confused as he was, she paused for a moment as if she didn’t understand the question. Turning to look at her unclothed compatriots and scratch her head, she tried to figure out what he meant. “Well, uh...master, this is...it’s like an auction, and...” She leaned closer to her own holodisc so the other Rattataki standing in a row with their backs to a mesh cage couldn’t hear her. “You need me to strip them naked?”

“What? No! Pjiega, they...aaarrrrggghhh.” Xuvas facepalmed, much to Loun’s delight, and he wiped his hand down his entire face. “Why aren’t they wearing any clothes? There are people walking by you!”

“Oh...now I get it,” Pjiega chuckled. “Master, they’re slaves. If you’re looking to buy out their owners, you need to be sure that there aren’t any defects in the products. Trust me, I was a slave until you freed me, I know how this system works.”

“They look...aahhhh...they look fine, Pjiega, I’m really only interested in your assessment of their combat and computer skills.”

“Yep. I know my own people. There were a lot of permanently injured people, cyborgs, and know-nothings who begged me to pick them, but these are the cream of the crop.” As if to demonstrate her point, she slapped one of the males across the face hard and then pointed to him instructively when he didn’t flinch. “See?”

“Fine, fine. Look, take the auto recording of this conversation as proof of my consent and pay for their manumission with my account. Once that’s done, remove their slave collars - make a bit of a show of it, you know, make them feel valued. Their tactical training can start tomorrow, so focus on getting them room and board today.”

“Yes, master,” she said while reaching to turn off her holodisc.

“Wait, and put their clothes back-“

She accidentally closed the channel before he could finish, leaving Loun to laugh at him as he stared at the blank holo. Her laugh wasn’t malicious, but it was definitely at him rather than with him.

“Good luck with your citizenship expansion plan,” his fellow pureblood chuckled as she walked inside of the ruddy red training center, leaving him to hurry after her.

He followed her through the door. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled while following her to an inner courtyard for more capable acolytes.

“No, really, I mean it. I find your ideas to be unrealistic, but if they succeed, then there would be a net benefit for the Empire. So...ha, good luck.”

He joined her beneath an awning to watch a handful of acolytes exercise their Force powers on a combination of androids and live targets. “Your sense of humor is as biting as it is well-timed, Overseer.”

Nodding without reply, she stood next to him and observed the acolytes exerting themselves with varying levels of success. He assumed that she was waiting for him to observe the acolytes as well, though there were many others he could have seen that day. There had to be a reason why she’d brought him there; he remembered her well enough to know that every action she took had a hidden meaning. After he visually scanned the courtyard, he noticed that the acolytes were unattended.

“These are your students,” he murmured, speaking in a low voice so as not to disturb them. She smiled proudly while watching them yet remained silent as the acolytes practiced their telekinesis. “Would you really honor me with such a gift?”

Her smile remained, though there was a shift in its form from prideful to sly. “I don’t give gifts,” she said to him while still watching her students closely. “I’ve been commanded to prepare two acolytes for apprenticeship under you. My compliance is guaranteed, of course, but I can release whichever two I would like. I’ll only grant you your pick if you can bring me what I want.”

“And what is that?”

Her smile grew sinister in a manner that practically tickled him. “Jedi,” she purred, almost lost in her own thoughts. “If I had former Padawans, I could more easily position myself for a promotion. I’m nearing a consideration hearing in a year and a half, but the competition is steep. If I release two of my acolytes to you, I’ll receive two randomly chosen students to fill their places and a commendation for facilitating your return. That’s good, but not great. I want more. If you want this to be easy, then you will give me what I want.”

“By easy, you mean granting me my pick?”

“Verily. I have a range here. They all require further instruction with others, at various levels. You’re the expert propagandist, and you’ve converted multiple Padawans and Jedi proper to the dark side.” Loun paused and squinted deviously as she observed, and then pointed with her nose to two separate acolytes. “There. You want to make your point about inclusiveness or whatever? The girl and the boy there, both of them red Zabraks.”

“The subspecies of Zabrak which exists only in Imperial Space,” Xuvas hummed quietly as he watched the two teens work their sorcery.

“Even more loyal to the Empire than the Rattataki. You may find a few red Zabraks with the Mandalorians, but not many; they’re ours, as small as their numbers may be.”

He looked at Loun and couldn’t help but smile at her knack for strategy. “You adapt very quickly.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she chuckled, a world apart from the Empress’ more austere demeanor. “This is how it is. They’re at least a year away from being truly combat ready. I can send them to Harkun for more focused practice in local missions, but I want my reformed Jedi before then. Not only would I receive a commendation for helping you, but I’d also be able to pump former Padawans for intelligence on the enemy as well as propaganda against the Republic, which I know you love. You get your apprentices and you little diversity drive, I get to take credit for your work in converting Jedi to Sith, and everybody will be happy.”

Covering his mouth to avoid disturbing the students, Xuvas laughed into his hand. “May you...ha, may you always remain so open about what you’re really after, Overseer,” he laughed.

“Honesty is everything. Let me take credit for your work, and I’ll give you what you want. Refuse, and I’ll give you the greenest, most timid Kaas City trust fund kids I can find.” At last, she turned and looked at him and gripped him by the elbow tightly. “I accept your agreement without you even needing to express it.”

“Of course,” he chuckled, unable to suppress the sound.

Once more, she started to walk without telling him where she was headed. “I’ll inform Harkun of his task in order to make space for my new student for the next few weeks,” she said as she left him without further instructions.

Surprised as he was, he didn’t need to guess what she meant. “Just like old times, Overseer,” he said.

“Mhmm. Just like when you first arrived here. Be ready tomorrow morning; I expect you to be awake at sunrise like all the acolytes.”

Humbled and not entirely comfortable, he watched her leave and sighed. He quite liked the support he was getting to start working again, but two weeks in training as if he were a youth would likely leave his ego battered and bruised again.

Oh well...at least he’d be ready when the Empress eventually called.


	14. Reintroduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A modest, if flawed, announcement of return to the galaxy.
> 
> Part four of act three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place in 3630 BBY during the War on Iokath.

For a long time, Darth Xuvas had wondered if his years out of service would make him soft. Training was one thing; live combat was another.

Floating above the surface of Iokath, the remotely piloted landing pod frequently zigzagged to refine its aim. The metallic landscape of the robotic planet was so uniform that orientation was nigh-impossible, and the Sith warrior eventually stopped peeking out of the observation window. State of the art, the pod had been designed by Acina herself, and supposedly would last even longer than the specialty walker she’d gifted to the Alliance commander.

Almost meditative as he sat at the front of the empty cockpit, he closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. The pressure was mounting fast, and not just because he was hanging a kilometer above the planet’s surface. This was also his day of reckoning: the ultimate test to prove to Acina that she hadn’t wasted her time in recruiting and equipping him all over again.

Pressure. Thick and tangible, the pressure mounted on his shoulders...how he’d missed it.

That’s what he’d missed during his self-imposed exile: the pressure. A juggernaut, a tank, a living damage absorption device, he’d lived all his life under pressure. Whether from his parents, his peers, his ancestors, his society, his teachers, his leaders, his enemies, even himself, pressure was all he ever known. No matter how stressful the pressure felt at any point in his life, the years he spent without pressure were agonizing. Without pressure, he was cold and passionless, floating in a vacuum; with it, he was immolating, tense, and ready to act. Pressure defined him.

After what had seemed like an eternity, the voice of a new liaison crackled onto the pod’s intercom. His heart jumped from the moment he heard her voice.

“Agent Vin’darra of the Chiss Ascendancy reports,” the voice of the unseen speaker said.

“Darth Xuvas responds,” he said, using her odd speech pattern since she tended to react slowly when he spoke naturally.

Pulse racing, he listened as the moment of truth finally arrived. “A traitor sabotages the Outlander’s operation; the Empire leads the charge against the Republic. Empress Acina grants her blessing.”

His fingers and toes curled inside of his armor as he listened. His new crew sat in the back of the pod, and the agent on the line was most assuredly watching his actions through the uplink inside of his helmet. Pressure swelled up inside of him and screamed to be set free.

“Darth Xuvas prepares for battle,” he answered, nearly tripping over the sentence structure she’d infected him with.

She audibly manipulated controls on her end of the line, wherever she was. “Republic saboteur of initial meeting flees; surviving Republic strike teams regroup and converge.”

A loud blast of steam filled the pod, causing his seated companions to jump tensely. Xuvas absorbed the shock of the loud noise and tried to contain the rumble he felt inside.

The pod suddenly felt very light. “Darth Xuvas and crew descend to danger zone,” the agent said as the thrusters of the pod reversed. “Battle begins prior to pod’s landing.”

The pod dropped, whistling as it fell from the Gage-class transport ship it had been hanging from. The disorientation of a collapsing elevator hit him but tenfold stronger, and the Rattataki seated behind him let out war cries and superstitious prayers as they dropped to ground level. Explosions from residual explosions rocked the region of the planet, and the reverse thrusters were almost drowned out as the pad came to a safe, if rough, landing.

“Agent Vin’darra remains with you,” the Chiss spoke into his helmet’s communications uplink as he rose from his seat.

Laser blasts rocked the pod as soon as they landed, and he had no time to respond. Pjiega rose and began to yell at the other Rattataki to prevent them from exiting prematurely, and Xuvas stopped by her as he made his exit.

“Wait three seconds and then charge out after me,” he whispered to her.

“Understood, master.”

Blood boiling before he’d even seen the enemy, Xuvas opened the pod’s hatch and found himself on a ledge wrapping around one of Iokath’s seemingly pointless silos in a circuitous route overlooking a sheer drop into the automated factories below. Wreckage from destroyed siege tanks and walkers littered the ground, and he could see the remnants of at least two Republic strike teams running ahead of him.

Giving chase, he fed into his own fear of their possible escape and physically reached his hand forward. Half the hull of a destroyed Imperial walker burned near the Republic troopers, and he Force-dragged the hunk of flaming metal to block their path. At least ten strong, they turned to see him running at them and paused, arguing among themselves.

Rapidly approaching them, he felt as if his wait had finally ended. His black robes fluttered in the air, flapping as the troopers tried to extinguish the flames on the wrecked walker. Victory felt like it had come too early. He should have known that is was too early.

Before his own followers could emerge and warn him, a shadow expanded to blot out his own. The troopers took their sweet time dousing the flames, confounding him with their nonchalance until he sensed the great weight soaring toward him.

“Brace for impact!” Agent Vin’darra warned through his comm link.

Metal hit metal as Xuvas was knocked to the ground. Though unhurt, he could hear the sound of the more delicate pieces of his armor’s gas filter and temperature sensors shattering, and his head was rocked enough to make him dizzy. A great mass that felt like a bantha sat on his back, pinning him to the ground and knocking the wind out of him for a bit. Embarrassment settled in as he realized that his first few seconds in combat saw him walk into a trap.

Rattataki battle calls and curses rang outside, and both sides exchanged blaster rounds. The thought of his crew seeing him bested and then getting themselves killed burned a hole in his heart, and embarrassment gave way to hate. Pushing himself up until his muscles cramped, he felt his back dent the metal above him until the inanimate material was compelled to get out of his way. Metal tore as he broke a hole into whatever had been dropped on him, and darkness forced him to ignite his lightsaber to see. Corpses littered the interior of a destroyed siege tank; apparently, the Republic dropped an entire tank on him. He was beyond pissed.

Dusting off his sullied robes and mangled armor, he tried not to think about how much money he’d have to spend on repairs and focused on how he’d find whoever he needed to kill in revenge. Practicing his live weaponry skills, he cut the roof of the ruined tank open, Force-lifting it above him as he climbed out.

A battle continued outside. His crew were backed against the tank and returning fire to a third group of Republic troopers who’d launched a sneak attack. Not even bothering to count the newcomers, he flung the severed roof at the white-clad foes like a giant rusted tuna can lid. A number of them were cut in half, and the survivors scrambled for cover as Pjiega screamed for her fellows to press the attack. If she’d chosen them as carefully as she’d claimed, then they could finish handling the Republicans nipping at their heels and survive.

Leaving them to their own, Xuvas turned to the other side of the tank and jumped down. At the destroyed walker he’d moved, a few troopers were trying to control the fire and escape to whatever shuttle they had waiting further away. A detachment from them had approached the tank, but they froze when he walked toward them without impediment. Pulse throbbing, he almost shook with unreleased energy as he closed the hundred meter gap between a handful of troopers and a Chagrian Jedi who Xuvas assumes had something to do with the tank falling on him. The hostiles halted their advance, watching him in startled awe as if they were watching a ghost.

As he drew nearer, he reached to the middle of his black cloak and undid the buttons, letting the fabric flow open. He needed only a second to let the tattered garment slip off and fly in the wind behind him, revealing his vintage armor set from prior to even the events of Ilum he’d help to set in motion so long ago. An old, Rakata-based set of juggernaut heavy armor, it closely resembled the Enhanced Assailant’s adaptive armor only without the silly shoulder apparatus. Nobody used such a dated armor set anymore, and one of the troopers backed away upon recognizing the visual style.

“Oh my Force, it’s that guy from those old school Jedi Stomper videos!” the trooper exclaimed, actually causing Xuvas to stop walking toward them for a moment.

“The what?” he murmured before remembering the nearly decade-old memes once posted about him on galactic social media. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Come on, that’s a ridiculous and false term,” the Jedi told the Republic troopers.

“That can’t be him!” another trooper said nervously.

“Hold your line, men!” the Jedi said in an inauthentic tone as if making his voice deeper. “We’re the last line of defense!”

Tired of hearing their conversation, Xuvas reached forward again and Force-seized one of the troopers. The man’s legs dangled in the air and he thrashed around in vain while Xuvas telekinetically slammed the man into a random antenna on one of the buildings. The trooper was impaled, dying painfully before any of the others could even react.

“Go!” the Chagrian yelled to the other troopers. After failing to confront the juggernaut, they quickly fled, running back to the rapidly cooling walker wreckage. “My fate has been met, my friends!”

Wordlessly, Xuvas denied the Jedi the satisfaction of playing hero and grabbed another one of the troopers. Grasping a moving target so far away was difficult, and Xuvas only Force-hooked the ankle of one of the Republic troopers. By dragging the man along the ground, he tripped the others with the neutralized body, knocking them all over and sliding two of them off of the ledge they all stood on. Two more lives were ended before the Jedi could even react, and Xuvas felt the mounted pressure inside of himself starting to erupt.

“You leave me no choice, Sith!” said the Jedi.

The Chagrian came at him hard, swinging a blue lightsaber for his neck and shoulders in a series of potential death blows. Xuvas met the strikes with his own blade, deflecting each maneuver with ease. The Chagrian Jedi was no beginner, and the first real attempt on his life in months filled Xuvas not only with rage but also joy. He felt alive again, and when the two of them locked lightsabers, he slammed his knee into the Jedi’s abdomen and let out a little laugh. How he missed the war among the stars.

The Chagrian wouldn’t budge, but did weaken after the knee strike, and Xuvas continued holding his lightsaber against his opponent’s in order to share some of the pressure he felt all the time. More onerous Rattataki yodeling rang from behind him, and multiple footsteps pounded on the ground. A click of his tongue connected his helmet’s comm link to Pjiega’s earpiece.

“Leave the Jedi to me and cut off the escape of those troopers,” he spoke into his helmet. “Take prisoners if possible.”

“Yes, master!” Pjiega answered through his own earpiece.

Having heard the exchange, the Jedi pushed away from Xuvas as the swarm of Rattataki parted around them and rushed past. Before the amphibian Jedi could prevent their charge, Xuvas swung offensively for the first time in their duel. The Jedi blocked the swing, but there was so much power behind it that the light side warrior was knocked back.

Relishing the opportunity for stress relief, Xuvas toyed with the Jedi, letting his slower but heavier strikes rain down on his opponent. The Jedi blocked every one of them, but the effort sapped the Chagrian’s strength and stamina every time. Bullying his foe back toward the site of the new firefight, Xuvas controlled their duel and wore the Jedi out in a matter of moments.

Carried away and driven to a victory rush, Xuvas accidentally ended his own game when he swung a little too swiftly. His lightsaber severed one of the Chagrian’s lethorns, eliciting a groan from the Jedi. Having committed to the strike, the Sith juggernaut continued moving forward and shoulder checked the amphibian. His opponent was thrown back toward the firefight and spun out, falling face first to the ground. Head smoldering in what could prove a fatal wound, the Jedi raised his hands in one last desperate move.

The flaming walker that had been blocking the escape of the Republic troopers screeched and moved, sliding off of the ledge and tumbling into the depths of Iokath’s planetary factories where it exploded into the sky. Unimpeded in their escape, the remaining troopers turned tail and ran, losing a few of their number as Xuvas’ Rattataki all opened fire.

“Pjiega, don’t let them escape! Take as many down alive as you can!”

“Yes, master!” she yelled into his earpiece, causing him to wince.

He could see her yelling at the others far ahead of him, and they gave chase to their enemies around a bend and out of his sight. Irate and full of adrenaline, Xuvas crushed the blue lightsaber beneath his boot and grabbed the Jedi by the other lethorn rather than Force-dragging the man. Too weakened to effectively resist, the Chagrian was dragged for the long walk to the end of the ledge in Iokath’s endless paths to nowhere and dead ends.

Once he’d reached the Republic shuttles by walking, Xuvas grinned beneath his helmet. Amid all the corpses, five Republic troopers survived and had been forced to kneel; his crew had taken blaster fire, but had all survived. He took his time dragging the Jedi to them.

“Darth Xuvas calls for support,” he spoke into his comm link.

Fortunately for him, the use of the weird speech pattern was understood. “Agent Vin’darra listens,” the Chiss operative replied.

“Live footage of their loss...” He paused momentarily and tried to think of how he could talk about the future in a way she’d understand. “...shocks the Republic.”

There was a pause as he finally joined Pjiega’s side, and he worried that his request wouldn’t be understood. The agent’s comprehension proved to be sharp, however.

“Live holocast of your location begins,” Vin’darra said flatly. “Public channels on the Core Worlds gain access.”

Gasping and bleeding from the nose and mouth, the Jedi no longer struggled. Xuvas dropped the man in front of the troopers so they could watch the Jedi’s quiet passing - along with the rest of the galaxy. The troopers appeared devastated and looked upon their supposed protector like children whose favorite wrestler had lost a match. Their despair fed the Sith warrior’s appetite for destruction made him feel much like he did after overeating at one of Darth Hexid’s feasts but without the regrets.

Pjiega stepped on the dying Jedi to whisper to her Sith. “Master, we have a special guest among the captives.” She pointed to a human - a medic, apparently. Xuvas took a long look at the trooper and tried to figure out what was so special, but he was having difficulty. The medic’s facial features eventually began to match another in his mind.

“Daughter of Dorne,” he said while approaching the medic. “You ruined our Empress’ meeting with the Alliance commander.”

Defiance fought against despair in the medic’s eyes. “My life for the Republic!” she said, though he could sense the fear in her.

Stepping in front of her, Xuvas didn’t respond to her rhetoric immediately. Dragging out the moment for the sake of those watching, he waited until she averted her gaze to the ground.

“Thank your father every single day for the rest of your life,” he said softly, catching the attention of the captives. “Only my respect for Vasil has kept you alive today.”

He had no idea she’d be there, of course, but she seemed to buy the bluff. Her defiance disappeared at the mention of her father, and an old wound in Elara Dorne’s essence was reopened. She refused to respond, though, accomplishing nothing but irritating him.

“However...an example must still be made.” Turning his back to the medic, he stepped back to Pjiega. “Amputate their feet; every last one of them. If they can crawl back to their shuttle, then they’re free to go. I’ll be waiting in the landing pod.”

Too excited to even answer, Pjiega bowed to him and pulled out her vibroaxe. Her compatriots took aim with their blaster rifles in order to scare the captives from trying to escape, and Xuvas began to walk away from the scene.

“I will hunt you down, Darth Xuvas!” Elara yelled after him, silenced only when Pjiega hit her.

Not granting her the satisfaction of an argument, he continued walking away and left his new personnel to carry out the grisly command. Passing trooper corpses and burning vehicles, he collected his torn robes and put them back on. He’d have to recycle the fabric, which was better than leaving it on the ground. He detested littering.

“Empress Acina greatly approves,” the Chiss agent spoke into his comm link as he reached the landing pod. “The Outlander takes note of your cruelty.”

“Darth Xuvas greatly approves of Agent Vin’darra’s efforts,” he replied into the link. He entered the pod and sat down for a while, watching all his Rattataki eventually approach from around the bend.

Next, the agent delivered the most curious news. “The Outlander remembers Darth Xuvas from the Yavin coalition.”

In the middle of buckling himself in, he completely froze. He hadn’t met the fabled Alliance commander her, nor was he particularly interested in doing so. Still, he’d lost so many colleagues that he felt the desire to know who it was. “The Yavin coalition includes both friend and foe,” he said, still unsure as to whether or not she’d understand.

After a brief pause, he spoke again. “A message from the Outlander arrives: ‘it matters not now; we’re allies of convenience. But no matter what happened back then, I’m pleased that you’re still alive after all these years.’ The message ends.”

The Rattataki boarded, and he decided to leave the topic for a time when he’d have more privacy. “Thanks belong to Agent Vin’darra for her support on this day. Our party awaits liftoff.”

The hatch shut behind them, and the rest of his crew buckled in. The Rattataki all shared a single datapad as they processed the logistical work of booking a docking bay on the transport ships above for them to latch on to. As they group of them fought against the advanced technology, Pjiega had apparently opened up a separate window on the pad.

“Hey master, we’re on holo!” she burst out as the landing pod hovered straight up into the air. “Haha, the Republic censors are already failing to block all the kids uploading a holo of me punching Elara Dorne!”

One of her fellows tried to watch with her. “Look at all the feet,” the maniacal soldier snickered at a recording of himself dumping ten severed appendages off a ledge. “Now they can go back and tell people to be scared of us!”

Jabbering continued between all of them, but Xuvas remained silent. He’d be out a few thousand credits to repair his armor, but as far as comebacks went, that had gone surprisingly well.


	15. Red Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many rise, many more fall. A survivor isn’t easily impressed.
> 
> Part five of act three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place later in 3630 BBY, just after the defeat of the Order of Zildrog.

Dromund Kaas seemed grander now that it had been rebuilt. It was certainly grander than how he’d viewed it when he’d been growing up there.

During the downtime in between missions Acina sent him on, he most often found himself on the highest balcony of the Imperial Citadel in Kaas City, as was the case on that particular morning. Though he’d always borne high hopes and wasn’t the most humble children, he’d never expected to be in such a trusted position. Had his parents maintained any sort of a relationship with him in life, he might have tried to raise them as Force ghosts to show them what he’d achieved. Perhaps, one day, he’d hit the libraries and discover ways to contact non-Sith ghosts so he could commune with all the Duro and Twi’lek servants who’d raised him instead.

His datapad beeped at him, tempting him with his unfortunate addiction. He’d been trying to break the nasty habit of responding to the device every time he received a notification, but the lack of work when he was off the battlefield encouraged the addiction. Opening the device up, he was hit by what he felt like were far too many notifications for a person over the age of fifteen, and he tried in vain to discern what deserves his attention and what didn’t.

Messages from friends and former colleagues dominated his inbox. Orcina and her husband invited him to a dinner with her parents that weekend. He didn’t have weekends, but he could probably negotiate for an evening off. He replied to that message right away. Major Pierce, a former associate of the Empire’s Wrath as well as a onetime comrade of Xuvas when they’d conquered Taris, had sent an email with the subject ‘hey.’ As much as Xuvas respected Pierce, he was bothered by the latter’s latest career moves, and left the message unread to check it later. Pjiega had accidentally sent a garbled email to him instead of herself; she made the error frequently since she still couldn’t type well, didn’t understand cloud technology, and used her inbox to save things she liked. Considering the smut she’d tried to send herself yet mistakenly sent him previously, he was afraid to open the message and moved it to a folder for things he didn’t trust.

Obonta, a wildly popular Togruta singer-dancer-critic-actress he’d met on Nar Shaddaa before she’d hit it big, tagged his secret pseudonym in a holoclip preview for an upcoming song called ‘do you still remember.’ Even though he’d never seen her in person after their first encounter, the fact that she’d somehow figured out his pseud nearly fifteen years later and tagged it in a clip with over ten trillion views led him to believe that the lyrics were about him. Nobody would believe him, of course, and he couldn’t reach out for fear of putting a Republic crosshairs on her head, but he posted a bunch of hug emojis with his pseud and hoped she’d get the message.

Darth Hexid...good grief. She had a tendency to send holos instead of written messages, wherein she’d invariably share gossip he didn’t want to hear and goad him into attending her parties so she could pump her wine-tinged breath into his ear and peer-pressure him for dirt on the Empress. Though Hexid wasn’t truly malicious, she was a madwoman and loved spreading secrets rather than mere rumors. She’d also sent Xuvas about a dozen holos in only a few days, and he moved all of them to his junk folder except for one with a sigh and a decision to check it tomorrow.

His eyes stopped on a message from Lord Abaron, a former mentor of his during his late teens. The man wasn’t a social media buff and rarely wrote private messages, this one consisting of a single link and a comment. Apparently, a Jedi Knight had created a blog to post identifying images of notorious Sith alongside lists of Jedi they’d supposedly hurt, and Xuvas featured prominently and frequently. There were numerous unflattering memes and fabrications, like a tabloid except to insult rather than idolize, and comments about him were rather personal. Abaron’s only comment was that a Mirialan Jedi by the name of Naybe had been suggested as the possible culprit behind the anonymous site by Republic rumor mills but publicly denied involvement. Xuvas actually found the negative attention flattering, merely laughing and shaking his head before moving on.

Before he could visit the profiles of his friends, a number of direct messages began to flood his datapad. Very little explanation was given at first, and he balked at the sheer volume of links and short holo clips his own crew was competing to send him using the single datapad they all shared.

“What’s this about Nathema?” he wondered out loud.

A message from Acina popped up, interrupting his screen per a script he’d programmed on the pad. ‘Get in here,’ was all she’d written, far more terse than was her habit. Putting the device away at once, he swiftly walked from the balcony to her throne room in the Citadel and knelt in front of her alongside a handful of civil servants and a trooper who were just leaving. She formally bowed her head back to them, not particularly low but certainly more humble than her predecessor, and allowed them to leave. Only Xuvas and her red guards remained in the throne room.

When they were out of public view, she wasn’t as formal as usual, and she ordered him to stand with a simple wave of her finger. “Your casually expressed prophecy may have been fulfilled,” she said without any niceties or introduction.

He rose and racked his brain for what she could be talking about. “Is this about Corellia falling to us?” he asked hopefully.

A twinge of curious hope pulled at the corner of her mouth for a moment, but it quickly passed. “No. Not yet, anyway; that dream of yours will need to be fulfilled another day. Today, I refer to the Eternal Alliance.”

His mind returned to a conversation during their reunion, so to speak, a few years prior. “I was unconvinced, as I am now, that they on Zakuul or Odessen or whatever planet will retain any staying power.” Possibilities and scenarios floated through his mind; he hadn’t checked the messages from his crew and was at a loss for information. “Has the Eternal Alliance truly fallen?”

Inside of her, through the Force, Acina exuded a subdued hope that warmed him with its potential for military action. “Not quite,” she replied, visibly pleased regardless. “Apparently, their flagship with its legendary cannon destroyed their entire fleet before self destructing. The effective loss of their fleet, down to the very last ship, marks the end of their superpower status.”

He smiled gleefully beneath his helmet, though she surely felt his reaction anyway, judging by her addendum. “Many planets did pledge allegiance to them, mind you; that residual support may last for a while, though it’s safe to say that the Alliance is in decline. Interestingly enough, Lana Beniko contacted us through official channels to express their continued agreement with us,” Acina said.

“As much as I value my current position, would your excellence humor me for a moment were I to play the role of advisor?”

Perhaps due to the presence of her red guards, Acina didn’t smile as easily as usual in response to his odd comments. Very much the occupant of the Imperial throne, she only nodded and and waved her hand to welcome him.

“My gratitude, Empress. Doubtlessly, you’ve already measured the probabilities of ending the Alliance once and for all so that we may focus our attention on the true threat. However, the remaining forces of said Alliance could prove to be valuable living shields were we to push the Republic into striking preemptively; the Eternal Alliance would be obligated to honor our agreement and retaliate.”

“Rest assured, Darth Xuvas, you think as I do in that regard. My advisory council has already began to run algorithms to test the viability of each possibility in terms of our agreement with the Alliance. We need not worry about the blip on the galactic timeline, as you once put it.” Her expression became more serious, not stern so much as focused. “In regard to your actual position, then you may also rest assured that the bigger threat is our target...and I must sharpen my blade.”

The way she pointed at him as she rose from her throne excited him, and he tensed up in order to avoid looking overeager. Acina descended and walked past him, waving for him to follow her to the throne room’s overlook. He followed alongside her in anticipation, fighting the urge to speculate as she spent time observing the skyline of Kaas City.

“The Republic has already initiated levels of military-industrial output unseen in years. Pushing them to declare war, or at least overreach their bounds, will require us to put pressure on them. I believe that you understand the concept of pressure rather well.”

His cheeks felt warm upon hearing her comment. “I’ll devote that understanding to your command, my Empress.”

“See to it that you do. The title of the Empire’s Wrath has been retired and won’t be reopened, but suffice to say that I need those I can trust to act discreetly, under radio silence, yet in accordance with my will. There are a series of actions which must be undertaken...prepare your crew.”

“I can do so within the hour.”

“Your enthusiasm, though appreciated, is premature. We speak in terms of days, not hours. We’ll also need you to travel independently, as will others. The Arcanum is likewise retired, but procurement of a ship for you should be a simple matter.”

So flattered that he actually turned his head away from her, Xuvas felt a measure of embarrassment knowing that she could likely sense his giddiness. “I’m truly honored, your excellence.”

Without skipping a beat, she spoke to him while training her gaze on the skyline. “As you should be. You and your crew will be flying in your very...own...Imperial assault shuttle.”

For the first few seconds, his sense of warmth at her praise numbed him to the exact words she’d uttered, and he’d continued smiling stupidly beneath his helmet. Little by little, his jubilee tainted when the words repeated in his head, breaking him out of his stupor. Delusions of grandeur became apparent when he realized that she was talking about the dinky shuttles used to ferry passengers from space docks to minor terrestrial ports.

Outside his deflated ego, a sound began to encroach. Subtle at first, the rhythmic, pleasant noise increased, echoing on the balcony of the throne room. A few of the red guards began to stare over at them, and soon enough, Xuvas realized that the sound was coming from Acina. He turned to find her laughing, hand over her mouth politely but mouth open and eyes shut as if she’d pulled off the practical joke of the century. Her laugh was warm, and the casual, informal way she grabbed his arm and tugged it around shocked her guards with its provincial breach of decorum.

“You should have felt your aura in the Force,” Acina laughed like a common citizen. “It was almost cute the way your pride wilted.”

He frowned beneath his helmet. “I’m not cute. I’m deadly,” he said, quoting an old friend of his. Open disagreement was a more major breach of decorum, but she seemed to like his weak retort.

“Yes, of course. You didn’t really think I’d stick you in one of those tiny clunkers, did you?”

“No, I, uh...of course not.”

Once she’d regained her composure, she turned back to him and maintained a more refined smile. “Don’t worry; I can arrange for a proper warship since you’ll be undertaking official orders, however clandestine they may be. I say, I don’t think you’ve owned your own space vehicle since just prior to our first meeting. That makes thirteen years, yes?”

“Well, I actually did buy an Imperial assault shuttle just before I disappeared. But I only flew in it once, and I received word that it was destroyed...anyway, yes my Empress, I lost my Fury thirteen years ago. I suppose it was worth it, considering that the official communication about covering its loss was how we met.”

“You lost your Fury, but not your fury,” she replied. He pretended her play on words was funny out of respect and nodded. “Carry on as usual today; I’ll have an officer in procurement contact you tomorrow about a visit to the Spaceport. We don’t have time to waste.”

He bowed to her as she watched the skyline. “You honor me, Empress. I’ll not fail in whatever tasks you assign.”

Seemingly finished with the discussion, she nodded without looking him and continued to survey her capital city. Since his current task involved similar work to the red guard with slightly less restrictions on his movement, he merely stood next to her as long as she issued no further orders. Given her schedule, their brief exchange was the most she’d spoken to him in weeks, and he tried to enjoy the moment as long as he could.

Their silence was broken only by her voice one more time that day. “Welcome back, by the way,” she told him quietly. That wry smile didn’t waver, and her ability to suppress laughter and outward emotion left her exact implications a mystery, as they often were, but she really didn’t seem to be joking.

Watching the city as she was, he hummed his affirmation without turning to her. “Thank you,” he answered as they watched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s where my main was when the Outlander was frozen in carbonate for five years.
> 
> Yep. That was basically the question this story was meant to answer.

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t own Star Wars.


End file.
